The Leaves Fall in Mirkwood
by SnoDragon
Summary: Takes place after the War of the Ring. Legolas and Gimli are headed for Mirkwood when they discover a lone elf maiden with red hair. But she has secrets. Can Lasselanta go back? Or will she abandon the two? Now with 7 chapters! Please review!
1. A Tale of Two Elves and a Dwarf!

Lasselanta looked over the wilderlands. She stood on a high outcropping of rock in the foothills of the Misty Mountains, just north of the High Pass. A strong breeze buffeted her body, but so strong was her stance that she did not sway. Mouse-brown hair streamed out behind her and she carried a pale leather pack and a fine grey wool cloak. Her attire and looks were most strange because everything about her, from her hair to her clothing, even her slate grey eyes blended perfectly with her surroundings, making even her sillouette undecipherable from the mountains behind her. She stepped down from the ledge and gracefully loped back toward the foothills that were her home. The sun was slowly sinking in the sky and her work was done for the day.

Within a few moments she reached a tiny valley made by a ring of high hills, the tallest of which encircled a hut that looked to be in ruins. To anyone else, it looked like the remnants of an ancient outpost from before the Second Age, but to Lasselanta, it was home. A small mountain stream ran through it tripping over rocks and hillocks to eventually join its older cousin, the _Mitheithel_. She strode through the icy water, heedless of the cold and wet, for she was hot and tired. She walked into the tiny hut and dropped her pack on the floor, hanging the cloak from a jagged roof beam. The only piece of furniture in the tiny room was a chair carved from the trunk of a single great tree. It had a curved and rounded back with no arms in the fashion of Rohan. The most magnificent thing about it was that it was inlaid with copper in various shades of patina in a pattern of intertwining leaves in burnished red and faded green. Lasselanta collapsed into it and stretched her legs out in front of her. After a large sigh, she gave a sharp whistle and the back wall (the one facing the hill) swung upon and out trotted Celebrindal, her grey wolf companion.

Lasselanta had found Celebrindal when she was about 13 in human reckoning and he was a tiny pup. It was winter and his loner mother had been killed while trying to bring down a sick buck by herself. She found Celebrindal curled up next to his dead mother, trying to stay warm in the winter snows. He was half-starved and had a slash across his muzzle that Lasselanta deduced had come from the sharp hooves of the hunted buck. She searched for his possible brothers and sisters, but never found them. She named him Celebrindal because although he was a dusky grey color, he had silver-white feet. That had been two centuries ago.

Celebrindal butted her hand with his nose, effectively forcing her to scratch behind his ears.

"_Suilad, mellon_," Lasselanta whispered, obliging his demands. She closed her eyes and inhaled the smell of wet stone and metal with a sigh. She soon drifted into the realms half-sleep where she remembered a young girl with burnished copper curls and bare feet playing beneath huge trees.

A sharply itching head soon woke her. She stayed still, her eyes already open before she woke. After hearing and seeing nothing amiss, she rose and padded down the shallow stone steps in the swinging portal of the wall. Crystal globes of white light lit themselves as she went down the stair with one curve. The walls were smooth as sanded glass punctured by small niches that held the light globes. The stair soon ended in a large round room with a domed ceiling. It was paneled with ancient burnished wood and accented by benches sculpted from revealed living stone. She sat at her table by the green tile stove and pulled off her sodden boots. Then Lasselanta leapfrogged onto the path of soft wool rugs to avoid the cold stone and down the hall to her bathing room. She opened the door and let out a soft mist of steam, for she was the proud proprietor of a bubbling underground hot spring. She stepped inside, stripped off her scouting gear, lowered herself into the water, and succumbed to the heat.

* * *

"Legolas," Gimli started.

"Hmm?" replied Legolas. Gimli sighed and hesitated. "Well?" Legolas prompted.

"Must we continue with these blasted pack animals?" he exploded, gesturing toward the pair of horses they had been riding and were now leading. Legolas threw back his head and laughed. "Is there something you find amusing?" Gimli demanded testily.

Legolas composed himself and answered with barely concealed mirth, "I thought you liked not having to carry such heavy loads."

"I do, but..."

Legolas cut him off, "But, 'Dwarves walk with their feet on the solid earth!' I know. But come, I made it through Moria without complaining," Gimli emitted a loud 'Ha!' and Legolas continued smoothly, "So I do not see why you cannot take it like a dwarf and ride. It isn't hard."

"That's what all you foolish elves say!" retorted Gimli. "It is not easy to put your trust in such a beast when your stature is... less than willowy." The corners of Legolas' mouth twitched.

"Why Gimli," he teased. "I had no idea you were such a poet. Oh wait, I'd quite forgotten that time in Lothlorien."

"You hush, Elf!" Gimli declared. "Or I'll not speak to you for the rest of our journey!" This caused Legolas to burst into sparkling laughter again and the rest of the day's hike was spent in complete, but amicable (on Legolas' part) silence.

As night fell, the pair found a small hill on the otherwise flat plain and made camp.

"How are we to make a fire with no firewood on this blasted plain!" cried a frustrated Gimli after searching in vain for fuel.

"Horse dung," replied Legolas calmly.

"It's not horse dung!" defended Gimli. "This is very serious business! I would like a hot meal for once!"

"Gimli," Legolas admonished quietly. "Use dried horse dung as fuel."

"That is foul!"

"It is not," Legolas retorted. "And furthermore, it is very effective. Although, we do not have to make a fire. We could eat _lembas_, drink lukewarm water, and sleep on the cold ground."

Gimli paused, then said, "I'll go find some horse shit," and with that, he left.

"Make sure it's dried, not fresh!" Legolas called laughingly as Gimli stalked off. He finished unloading the horses, drop-tethered them, and sat down with a sigh, resting against the hill.

* * *

Lasselanta yawned and stretched in the hot water. She looked at her hands, and realizing she was getting as wrinkled as a prune, hauled herself out of the stone basin. Some soft soap and a rough cloth helped restore her circulation, and a pitcherful of icy water chilled her deliciously. Then, another handful of soap took the dull dye she used for scouting out of her hair and relieved her itching head. The dye only lasted about a week or so and was water-proof, but not soap-proof. When she rinsed it, her hair gleamed dark copper in the white light of the light-globes. A quick toweling rendered her dry, but her hair stayed damp, no matter what. Only the winds of the wilderlands would truly dry it. So, for the time being, she skillfully plaited it down her back, wrapped herself in a flowing black silk robe, and padded back out to the great room.

She kindled a tiny, nearly smokeless fire in the tile stove and let what little smoke there was circulate through the stove and heat the tiles. She set water on to boil for tea, then pulled on a pair of soft leather shoes and headed for the stair, with Celebrindal once again close at her heels.

The sun was now nearly below the horizon and Lasselanta could feel the warmth seeping from the stones and the earth. She sat on her favorite flat grey stone and unbound her hair to let the swift evening breeze render it dry. Celebrindal nudged her hand when she was finished and she again ran her fingers through his thick soft fur.

* * *

Legolas had kindled the fire and was heating water for tea while Gimli roasted a small rabbit he had caught while on his hunt for fuel.

"I am glad you decided to accompany me on my last foray home," Legolas commented absently. Gimli merely 'humphed.' "I appreciate your willingness to seek out the forests of Mirkwood so that I might restore my memory of the great gardens there."

"Why do you blather, elf?" Gimli asked bluntly. "If you have ought to say, say it!"

"Very well," countered Legolas with a sly smile.

When the next few moments proceeded in silence, Gimli prompted, "Well?" He received no reply, so he 'humphed' again and returned his attention to the spit.

"Wake me when that rabbit is done," Legolas suddenly said with a grin, and proceeded to drift off into the realms of Elven half-sleep. But before he began walk the paths, something on the slowly fading horizon caught his eye. He strained his sight to its Elvish limits, but all he could make out was a dark figure in the foothills so far they misted, and a glint of something bright. Unsatisfied with that glimpse, but sure he could strain his eyesight no further, Legolas gave up his curiosity for a time, certain he could take it up again when he woke once again.

* * *

"_Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron_!" Lasselanta softly sang the song of her childhood. It was all she remembered of what her mother had once sung to her so long ago. She combed her hair with her fingers and felt the moisture sapped from her coppery locks as she did so. Her hair was nearly dry when she stood and looked out over the plain. Off in the distance she saw the glow of a fire, but thought nothing of it, for what Elves would be passing through this place? Any elf worth his salt would stick to the Forest Road if they were traveling to Mirkwood. Besides, no one knew of her home. Not even what little kin she had left. Lasselanta sighed, turned away, and began her song of evening, saluting the setting sun, waiting for the stars to emerge.

* * *

"Legolas," said Gimli gruffly. When the elf did not stir, he said again, "Legolas!"

"What?" Legolas answered calmly and with a bit of annoyance. "I heard you the first time."

"Then answer next time!" Gimli retorted, a bit sick of the silence and the huge sky.

"What, Gimli?" Legolas asked again.

"The rabbit is done," Gimli replied.

"I believe I had rather already discovered that."

"Then are you going to eat or not? All you've done is lounge about! I've done all the work!"

"Nonsense. Besides, I kept watch all last night whilst you snored like the thunder and I'll be up again tonight. I deserve a rest."

"It's not my fault you refuse to sleep at normal times!"

Legolas sighed. "Just hand me some rabbit, Gimli." He held out his hand when he thought he heard the slightest strains of music - no, singing! Legolas cocked his head and listened intently, "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Gimli asked, puzzled.

Legolas heard the strain again, this time more clearly. It was from the Namarie! "That! That music!"

Gimli cocked an eyebrow and gave his friend a look that said it all. "I hear nothing but the fire and those damned crickets."

Legolas strained his ears, but it was gone. He sighed, "Nevermind," and picked up a portion of coney. Gimli gave him another look, but merely set in to his own half. "I wonder if things will have changed since I left," Legolas ruminated to no one in particular.

"When was the last time you were home?" Gimli queried.

His elven friend gave him a half smile and replied, "Since just before the Council."

"Oh," was all the dwarf could manage.

"I wonder if the shadow of Mordor left my home in ruin or the better for it," Legolas mused.

"I wouldn't give it too much thought," replied Gimli. "Though I doubt Thranduil will have aught good to say of my coming with you."

The elf sighed and agreed, "Yes, I doubt so too. However, you're going to have to learn to hold your tongue around my father. He's not one for poorly chosen words."

"Bah!" was all Gimli said, then muttered, "Poorly chosen words indeed!" and, having finished his rabbit and tea, lay down for the night. Legolas stood, bow in hand, and perched himself on top of the small hillock to keep watch. A quick look about revealed nothing of interest or danger, so he occupied himself by watching the stars come out.

* * *

Lasselanta, fully satisfied that the stars were as beautiful as she had known they would be, gazed once more upon her birth star, then padded back inside. She hated to go in, but any longer and a stray orc might scent the wood smoke and come to investigate. It was best to go in. She grabbed her hanging cloak on the way down and her ears were assaulted by the shrieking kettle, which she sprinted to relieve from the stovetop. She set it gingerly on the smooth flat floor of a stone niche near the stove hoping that not all the water had boiled away. After scrounging up some peppermint leaves for tea, she found that she had just enough water to fill her ancient teapot. She had bought the thing long, long ago in Bree, where she was taken to be an odd female Ranger. Lasselanta smiled at this; little had they known. She warmed her hands around a handle-less soapstone cup she had carved in her early days. Her first few winters had been tough, spent hunting with Celebrindal and using up precious energy widening the tiny cellar. But that had been easy compared to when she hit bedrock, which was most definitely not made of soapstone.

Memory overtook Lasselanta and slowly drew her back:

_" 'I'm sorry dearhart, but your parents, they have passed.' Suddenly, the song of mourning made sense. She knew elves had died, but not her parents. It wasn't possible! Her teacher must have seen the look on her face, and reached out to comfort her, but she wrenched away and ran into the forest. _

'Lasselanta! No! Come back!' but she was too swift and small. 'Leave her be,' a low voice floated after her. 'A night in the forest will not hurt her.' 'But my lord! The spiders, the orcs!' The voice was overconfident, 'She will not stray far. After all, she cannot, she was sired by a human.'

She dashed tears from her eyes and defiantly ran further. When night fell and she had cried all she could, she crept back like only she could and snuck into her room. She quickly and calculatingly packed her stone and metal working tools, wrapping them in their leather case. Then came her scout clothes, soap, and extra boots to be shoved into her pack. Extra bow strings, fletching tools, and her whetstone joined them. She quickly threw her warmest cloak over her shoulders and rolled a blanket from her bed. She strapped her small bow and double swords to her back. She quickly raided the kitchens of some of its journey food, then headed back out into the forest. They'd never find her now."

She jerked herself out of her reverie with tears in her eyes. That foolish king. Perhaps she would still be in Mirkwood if it weren't for his words and her grief and wounded pride. Celebrindal whined, worried, and gently butted her leg with his head.

"You are right, _mellon_," she whispered. "What's done is done, and I can never go back." With that, she dragged herself to bed.


	2. Many Meetings

The moon was setting as Legolas returned, still standing, from his little sleep. He gave a half-hearted yawn and, not hearing Gimli's snores, looked about for him, but the dwarf was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he's gone for more fuel, he thought with a wry grin. The grin turned to a worried look when Legolas heard the faint sounds of battle. "_Yrch_!" he whispered and took off at a dead run for the sound.

The night made it difficult to see at such a distance, but Legolas trusted his ears as he ran soundlessly, hoping for the best and fearing the worst. Then, he heard Gimli's war cry "_Khazad-dum_!" and knew his friend was not in dire straights, but still he pressed on. The battle was too far away, how had Gimli gone so far? The only answer was that the orcs were herding the dwarf somewhere. But where? Toward a trap? Legolas put on an extra burst of speed and within moments cleared a large hill and looked down upon the battle scene.

Gimli was in the center of a mire of orcs, desperately fending them off with his vicious axe, but he was losing ground. Legolas was firing before he could even think, picking off as many as he could before his arrows ran out. When they finally did, and orcs were still coming, he unsheathed his knives and charged straight into the melee.

Legolas somehow fought his way toward Gimli and then they fought back to back. Lunge, parry, lunge, block, was all that kept going through Legolas' mind. The orcs just kept at it. Where are they all coming from? he wondered desperately. We cannot continue like this!

* * *

Lasselanta sat bolt upright in the darkness of her alcove bed, sweating. She had had a dream, a terrible one, where she was trapped and surrounded by orcs. No matter how hard she fought, the orcs just kept coming. Celebrindal whined from the foot of her bed.

"Relax," she reassured him. "I'm fine, it was only a dream," wasn't it? She couldn't return to sleep after that, so she got up and put on clothes, prepared to work with soothing stone. However, she found herself putting on her scouting gear. "What am I doing? I can't go out now!" but the urge was persistent, pressing. "But I don't have time to dye my hair!" she knew it didn't matter. Hair could be hidden. She finished dressing and tightly braided her hair, throwing her grey cloak about her shoulders and pulling up the hood.

Celebrindal cocked his head at his friend's strange behavior, but followed her up the stair into the open without complaint. On the way up, Lasselanta grabbed her twin swords, unsure why she did so, but trusting her instinct.

When they reached the open air, she knew her instinct had been right, for she immediately heard sounds of battle. She looked about to find it and her keen night-sighted eyes saw two figures desperately fighting off a horde of orcs in the distance. She did not stop to question who they were; any enemy of orcs was a friend of hers. She immediately set out at a slow, but efficient and ground-eating lope, Celebrindal at her side.

* * *

Gimli heard a short cry behind him and shouted, "Legolas! What ails?"

"Naught, Master Dwarf!" Legolas retorted, but Gimli knew he had somehow been wounded. The pair were known for their prowess in battle, but the sheer number of orcs were wearing them out. The dwarf knew that they must somehow overcome these orcs or they would not survive. He already knew that dawn was too far off to merely defend, they must attack. But how? Gimli gave a roar and renewed his fading vigor. Legolas somehow did the same. They slowly beat back those who attacked them, but they were rapidly draining their precious energy reserves.

* * *

Lasselanta leapt across a ditch and rounded a hill, only to look down upon the strangest sight: an elf and a dwarf were back to back, effectively fighting off a huge horde of orcs. Celebrindal's hackles went up at the sight of the orcs and he started to growl low in his throat. Lasselanta quickly looked toward the sky; the moon was setting, dawn was not far off, but definitely too far off for the elf and the dwarf. She decided to join them.

She unsheathed her twin blades, twirled them, and started singing an Elven war song as she flew down the slope into the melee, Celebrindal howling, fast at her heels.

* * *

Legolas had been too busy to hear the steps, but he definitely heard the weird song that was part haunting Elven and part chilling howl. He didn't care; it distracted the orcs, giving him the chance to kill several in a short span with just his knives. Gimli felled more. The stranger moved so fast he looked a blur, something helped by the fact that he wore a grey cloak that blended into the dark grass and the pale light of the crescent moon. In fact, Legolas was sure that Gimli knew where the stranger was only by the flash of his two swords. Then something ripped out the throat of an orc that had been about to slash Legolas in the arm. He noted with alarm that it looked like a Warg, and was only slightly relieved to discover it was a wolf.

Slowly, the moon crept further across the sky, and by the time it had set completely, all but a few of the orcs were dead. Those that were left fled to escape the coming dawn, but the stranger and his wolf hunted them down, efficiently killing them. All Legolas and Gimli could do was collapse to the ground and breathe. When the stranger returned, small columns of smoke were left in his wake. He had burned the bodies of the orcs. His wolf limped behind him and when they returned to the battle scene, he tended to it's wounded paw, then made a campfire. He dragged the bodies of the orcs a dozen or so meters downwind of the campfire, methodically slitting the throats of all those still alive. He then set fire to the pile of corpses. By the time he was finished, Legolas had regained some strength and stood. He slowly walked to where the person (was it an elf or a man?) stood.

"Thank you, friend," Legolas said in the Common Tongue, "for saving our lives." The stranger cocked his head and replied in Sindarin!

"I do not understand that which you speak."

"I beg your pardon," Legolas returned in his mother tongue. "I thanked you for saving our lives."

"'Twas naught," replied the elf. "Any enemy of an orc is a friend of mine."

Legolas smiled put his hand over his heart and bowed, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood."

The stranger stiffened, then drew back his hood for the first time and replied, "I am Lasselanta." Legolas nearly reeled in shock. His rescuer was a woman!

"Ha!" Gimli exclaimed, then continued in roughly accented Elvish. "That explains quite a lot, missy!"

Lasselanta cocked her head and asked, "I beg your pardon?"

Gimli just winked and said, "I know a female singing voice when I hear one, and there was no way your voice belonged to a man, no matter how lovely!" Lasselanta just threw back her head and laughed.

"I have yet to hear your name, Master Dwarf."

"I am Gimli, son of Gloin," he bowed low. "And I am very pleased to meet your acquaintance Lady Lasselanta."

She abruptly turned away, "I am no lady, Gimli, son of Gloin." Then she turned back and said, "Follow me."

* * *

Lasselanta had been wary of the elf with the blond hair, even more so when he said he was a son of Thranduil! It couldn't possibly be the same elf, but all the same, the name made her cringe. The dwarf, however, had raised her spirits after all the killing. She would've left them there to nurse their own wounds in the cold dawn had it not been for him. She led them silently and quickly through the hills. She sent Celebrindal off to round up their mounts; he returned by the time the sun had fully risen with the horse and pony galloping nervously, but not hysterically in front of him. They stopped in front of the trio and Lasselanta calmed them, as Legolas was distracted and Gimli was still too exhausted to do anything but plod along.

"Mount up, both of you," Lasselanta said in an unconsciously commanding tone. "I'll have to blindfold you the rest of the way."

"I am not riding that thing when I haven't got my reflexes with me," Gimli retorted stubbornly.

"Fine," Lasselanta replied calmly, which Gimli wasn't expecting. "But you'll have to let Celebrindal lead you."

"Who?" Gimli asked, confused. Lasselanta merely pointed to the wolf, who smiled, tongue lolling. Gimli gulped, "I'll need your help to mount, Legolas."

"What?" Legolas asked, coming out of his reverie.

"Help get me on that damn horse!" Gimli yelled. Legolas obliged, then mounted his own horse.

"Lean down," Lasselanta said as she pulled a pair of leather strips out of her belt pouch. They both obeyed and she deftly blindfolded them. "Now hang on because we're going to trot," she said, grabbing the lead of the pony, letting Legolas' bridle-less horse follow on his own. She set off at the same ground-eating lope she started, with Celebrindal bringing up the rear to keep the horse and pony going, but far enough back to keep them from bolting.

After half an hour's time, they splashed through the stream and reached the hut. "Dismount," Lasselanta ordered. Legolas obeyed, trusting his mount, but Lasselanta had to pull Gimli from the poor pony, who lost most of his mane to the dwarf's clenched hands. She led them both inside, sat them at her table, and told them they could remove their blindfolds.

Both were in shock at her home.

"Ah!" said Gimli. "Not only am I back on the ground, I'm under it too! And such fine workmanship! Is it dwarvish?"

"No," replied Lasselanta, amused. "It is my own." That left Gimli speechless.

Legolas was less enthusiastic than his travel partner and looked cagey and disturbed. Then he saw the globes of bluish white light. "Fëanorian lamps!" he whispered in awe.

"I beg your pardon?" Lasselanta asked.

"Where did you get those?" Legolas queried, gesturing toward the globes.

"They were my mother's," she replied. "I brought them with me when I left."

"Do you know how to make them?" he asked excitedly.

"No, I haven't the faintest idea," Lasselanta said, a bit confused. Legolas looked downcast, as if he suddenly remembered he was underground. Lasselanta sighed and said, "Come let me take care of those wounds," and she deftly began to remove Legolas' shirt to take care of a deep shoulder wound.

"What are you doing?" He asked tensely, stopping her hands.

"Fine," she replied crisply, removing her hands. "Do it yourself, but don't you dare start bleeding again. You too, Master Dwarf," she said coolly to Gimli as she left to go get the right healing herbs from her storeroom.

* * *

Once in the storeroom, which smelled sharply and cleanly of herbs and stone, Lasselanta leaned wearily against her work table. "What am I doing with these two?" she whispered to herself as she began to automatically prepare _athelas_ and rock rose for Legolas' shoulder wound. Chamomile and wormwood were made into a fine bruise and muscle strain salve for the both of them. When she was finished with all her salves and dressings, she grabbed a roll of bandages for major wounds and returned to the main room.

Legolas had removed his shirt and had indeed started bleeding again. Lasselanta's lips tightened at this, but said she nothing. Gimli, due to his mail, had received nothing more serious than a few shallow cuts, so Lasselanta suggested, "Perhaps, Gimli, you would like to bathe while I take care of Legolas?"

"I do not want to inconvenience you, Lady," Gimli gracefully replied, but Lasselanta could see the hope against hope in both his and the elf's eyes.

"Follow me," she said with a small smile. "And I am not a lady."

She led him down a curving hall to the hot spring and opened the door, letting out a billow of steam.

"Wonder of all wonders!" cried Gimli. "The lady has a hot spring!" He immediately sprang into the room and was already shedding clothing and armor when she hastily shut the door. Lasselanta returned to the main room and started cleansing Legolas' wounds.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as he winced at the hot water she applied to his skin, "but I cannot allow you to go outside if you are to stay the night." Legolas visibly sagged at this pronouncement. "However, I can lead you back to your camp first thing in the morning if you wish."

Legolas did not answer, but asked, "Why do you not wish to be found?"

"There are reasons I have survived this long on my own, Master Elf, and secrecy is one of them," she replied curtly, evading his question. He wisely said nothing and when she had finished binding his shoulder wound and salving his other minor cuts and bruises, he accepted a cup of hot mint tea and a warm scone. "We will have a proper breakfast when I return from tending the horses," she said apologetically, and left.

* * *

Legolas was stunned as he sipped the soothingly hot tea. He ignored the scone. He had too much to think about. Fëanorian lamps! How did she get a hold of so many? Just who was this elf and what was she doing so far from civilization? She obviously wasn't a wanderer; the cave was too secure and well-furnished for that. And, now that he thought of it, he seemed to remember that she had red hair! Real, fiery red hair, not auburn or strawberry blonde as only a few elves in the last thousand years were known to have. It was a paradox: she was an elf, she had red hair. Elves didn't have red hair! They hadn't since the last of Feanor and Nerdanel's children died out in the Second Age! Wait, red hair and Fëanorian lamps. Was there any connection? Could there be? Legolas' thoughts were spinning as they hadn't since discovering Gandalf had not died in Moria. Just as he was about to give up and go to sleep, Gimli entered with wet hair and a clean set of clothes on.

"Your turn, Master Elf!" he boomed cheerfully. "And you'd best hurry or there won't be any hot water left!" He roared with laughter at his joke. Legolas dismissed all his former thoughts and grinned.

"Gimli, you are incorrigible," he replied. "Even a near-death experience doesn't dampen your spirits."

"You can't keep a good dwarf down!" Gimli declared in agreement as he took Legolas' spot, as well as his scone, and Legolas went to go wash up.

* * *

Lasselanta soothed the horse and pony, both of whom were less nervous since Celebrindal had left to hunt. They had been grazing near the stream when she came outside, and she quickly gave them a good rubdown with a rough cloth since she had no currycombs or brushes.

"That'll have to do for now," she whispered affectionately and patted the pony on the neck. She tried to do the same with the horse, who had been friendly during the rubdown, but now he shied away. "Hmph," snorted Lasselanta in disgust. "Just like your master: friendly enough when I'm doing you a favor, but aloof when you're done with me." She gave the pony an apple she had grabbed on the way up, "That's for all the mane that's gone missing," and then went back inside.

* * *

Legolas marveled at the indoor hot spring. Never had he seen such a blend of nature and artifice! But his awe was soon dispersed as the thought of getting truly clean, as he had not been since the trip began, was too much. He stripped and lowered himself into the hot water, careful not to get the bandages wet. Then, he leaned back for a nice, long soak.

* * *

"Done with the horses already?" asked a gruff voice. Lasselanta spun, startled, then she laughed.

"Gracious, Master Dwarf!" she exclaimed. "You frightened me."

Gimli immediately looked remorseful, "I'm terribly sorry, Lady! I meant no harm."

"No, I know you didn't," Lasselanta replied ruefully. "It's just that...I'm not used to voices other than my own. I've been alone for too long." That last bit was said quietly to herself, and Gimli pretended to ignore it.

"I must thank you, Lady," he began, "for the pleasure of such a lovely bath! But I must ask, how did you get it like that?"

"First," Lasselanta stated, "I am no Lady. Call me Lasselanta." When Gimli nodded she continued, "Secondly, I discovered that hot spring quite by accident. I was digging in this area to build a home when scalding water began to well up through the soil. You might say I got "burned" by that incidence. I avoided the damn thing until I finally got it through my thick head that it was probably the most valuable thing on this plain."

"Digging?" queried Gimli. Then it dawned on him and he was once again astonished, "You mean to say that you dug this whole place out yourself!"

Lasselanta allowed herself a small, proud smile, "One can work wonders when alone and homeless on a plain with several centuries at one's disposal."

"Well!" was all Gimli could manage. Lasselanta truly grinned this time.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Would I!" Gimli exclaimed, then stammered, "That is, if it is no trouble, my Lady." He winced and corrected himself, "Lasselanta." She let out a merry peal of laughter and immediately started on breakfast, but not before ordering him to apply some bruise juice.

"You can't let those bruises bleed themselves out," she said firmly. "And don't even think about letting those strained shoulder muscles stiffen." She handed him a small pot of the salve and returned to her cooking.

* * *

Legolas gingerly pulled himself out of the water after he decided he was as clean as he was going to get without wetting the bandage on his shoulder. He toweled off and slipped carefully into the cleanest pair of clothes in his pack. He put the towel into a wooden bin that seemed to be used for that purpose and left the steamy room. The air outside was comparatively cool and dry and Legolas' keen sense of smell caught the waftings of a most delicious breakfast brewing, the likes of which he hadn't seen in many a week. He ambled back down the corridor toward the main room where he found Gimli gingerly rubbing some sort of salve on a bruised shoulder, and Lasselanta busy preparing a meal.

"I see you're done cleaning up," commented Lasselanta without turning. "Perhaps you'd care to join Master Gimli in salving those bruises and strains?" It was more of an order than a request. Legolas cocked an eyebrow, but silently did as he was bid. Lasselanta was stirring something on the stove that looked to be a stew or soup of some sort, but he couldn't tell which.

"Here," Gimli handed him the pot of salve. Then he grunted and stretched, expecting to hurt, and was surprised when he didn't. "Will wonders never cease?" he asked himself quietly. Lasselanta just gave a low chuckle. Legolas eyed the stuff doubtfully, but found it was painless to apply topically. Indeed, it felt like he was merely rubbing on some harmless cream or somewhat, and it smelt mostly of sleepy chamomile, but Legolas detected a hint of pungent wormwood. However, after a few moments, Legolas felt even more refreshed than after his bath, which had just made him drowsy, for all the dull ache from his bruises and muscle strains had disappeared.

"It appears that Gimli speaks the truth," he commented to himself.

"Are you implying that my word was ever in doubt?" Gimli demanded, half in jest, half serious.

"Not at all, Master Gimli," Lasselanta replied smoothly for him. "I believe Master Legolas was merely using his keen senses to come up with his own conclusions. Am I right?" She turned from the stove with a pair of soapstone bowls so thin they were translucent that were filled with a steaming grain porridge, fragrant with raisins, fresh cranberries and blueberries, honey, and cream. She set them on the table, then set metal spoons beside them, and cups of hot tea down as well. "Eat," she commanded, then left the room.

"Oh!" exclaimed Gimli in delight. "Now this is a meal!" He took a huge bite, then nearly doubled over in pain. "Hot!" he roared, looking for something cool to drink, but there was only the hot tea. Legolas burst out laughing after a futile attempt to hold his own tongue. He pounded the dwarf on the back, then quickly rummaged through their packs for the water skin. He tossed the skin to Gimli, who greedily downed the cool water to quench his steaming tongue.

"Perhaps next time you'll test before you down the stuff?" Legolas queried. Gimli just glared at him over the quickly-emptying water skin. Legolas took a spoonful, but carefully blew on it before taking a cautious bite. Properly cooled, it was heavenly. Gimli, with his scalded tongue, was unable to completely enjoy the porridge, but Legolas made sure to fill him in on all he was missing.

* * *

Lasselanta finally went and got the chance to wash up and change clothes. She immersed everything but her hair briefly in hot water again, then toweled off and changed into a long, dusky periwinkle blue split skirt, a white tunic shirt, and soft leather boots. She combed her hair and braided it back again before returning to the main room to partake in her own meal.

* * *

Legolas was shocked when Lasselanta returned after being gone for so long, for she had changed from a disheveled, blood-streaked warrior to something much closer to a lady. She was wearing some sort of pants that were really a skirt thing. He couldn't explain it. But it was blue, like an overcast sky, and it made her eyes look clearer, whereas they had looked stormy in the night. And she wasn't exactly pretty, but very striking, and her hair shone copper in the light. When she discovered Legolas' eyes upon her (which didn't take long), she gave him an even, appraising gaze of her own, then turned to her own porridge.

Gimli finished his breakfast and sighed with relish. "Now that, my La... ahem, Lasselanta," he said appreciatively, "was the best meal I've had in many, many a day."

Lasselanta, who looked amused, replied, "I take it you do not enjoy your own cooking, Master Gimli?" Legolas strangled a snort of laughter, while she threw him a grin and Gimli glowered at him.

"On the contrary, Lasselanta," Gimli replied smoothly. "It is to Legolas' that I object!" He roared with laughter and Lasselanta let out a peal of her own. Legolas just pursed his lips and bore the humiliation with reluctant grace.

"Oh!" she sighed after all that laughter, then said, "Come now, Master Gimli. We are being cruel. I am sure Master Legolas' cooking is quite equal, if not better than my own, which is of no great note."

"No great note?" Legolas questioned. "Surely you jest! It is excellent even by royal Elven standards."

"Royal?" Lasselanta queried warily.

"Oh yes," Gimli supplied. "Legolas is a Prince of Mirkwood, so he should know!" Lasselanta momentarily experienced tunnel vision and felt faint, but quickly composed herself.

"So I suppose your father is King Thranduil?" she asked faintly.

Legolas, a bit surprised by Lasselanta's strange behavior, replied shortly, "Yes."

"Though," chuckled Gimli. "He has never been fond of dwarves, and I daresay he'll not be happy when we arrive."

"Arrive?" Lasselanta felt stupid for repeating them in such a fashion.

"Yes," Gimli replied. "That was where we were headed before those damn orcs got me cornered."

"Oh," she said shortly.

Then Legolas asked, curious, "Just exactly what were you doing when the orcs attacked?"

Gimli looked uncomfortable and replied quietly, "I was gathering fuel."

"What was that?" Legolas questioned mischievously.

"I was looking for some horse shit, dammit!" Gimli roared. "And I got distracted by those damn stars you're always prattling on about," he angrily shook his forefinger at Legolas, who merely grinned. "They looked too much like the glittering jewels in the walls of Durin's cave! And before I knew it I was surrounded by orcs who were herding me north."

"What?" Legolas asked, puzzled now. "Toward old Angmar? Why?"

"I don't know," replied Gimli honestly. "They must have some sort of camp up there or something."

"It is a camp," Lasselanta said quietly, looking down into her porridge. They both looked at her in disbelief. "I suspected something for some time, but most of my energy went into being overlooked. If I was far enough from home, I picked off a few with a bow, but I avoided close combat with more than three in a group. I picked off some scouts that way though. They started to travel in pairs after three years of disappearances." She sighed, "But then the orcs were gone. All of them. I didn't see a single one for over a year. I thought they had finally gone for good, but one day, they started to return. In large groups. And they were led by a new kind of orc. A kind that didn't mind the sun so much, and was larger, stronger, faster. I left them well alone after that. But I noticed that they were all headed in one direction: north by northwest. I figured they were gathering, but where? And why?" she sighed again and took a sip of her now lukewarm tea before continuing. "I followed a scout home one day. I picked him off once we were in view of the camp. It was larger than I had expected. I still don't know why they're there, or what they're doing, or who's leading them. All I know is where the camp is."

She was finished, but she knew Legolas and Gimli wanted more answers. Unfortunately, she had none. She stood and was about to collect their empty dishes, when Legolas stood and did it for her.

"Just tell me where to wash them," he said simply.

She stared, then protested, "But you're a Prince..."

"Who's done his own washing for the past seven years," Legolas interrupted smoothly. He obviously wasn't going to take no for an answer, so Lasselanta helplessly led him to a cupboard in the wall that opened to reveal two deep basins set into the rock and a spigot set into the wall. He looked at it quizzically and she turned the spigot, letting a cold stream of water into the right-hand basin. When it was filled, she filled the other part way, then filled the teakettle and set it on the stove to heat. She then opened a smaller cupboard inset into the back wall of the larger one, opened it and pulled out a jar of milky brown liquid. She handed it to him and he opened it and sniffed. "Soap?" he guessed. She just smiled and shook her head.

"The dishes go there," she said, pointing to a rack on the wall that held other dishes and utensils, which Legolas hadn't noticed before because it was between the tile stove and the far wall. She then grabbed a towel from the smaller cupboard and handed it to him. "Unless of course," she said. "You want me or Master Gimli to dry?" Legolas glanced at Gimli, only to find the dwarf dozing and gently snoring.

"Would you...?" he trailed off. She just sighed and took the towel from him again. Then she took the simmering water off of the stove and added it to cold water. Then she poured in a small amount of the distilled liquid soap and handed Legolas a rough cloth and waited for him to get started. He merely shook his head ruefully and immersed his lean hands into the hot water and proceeded to wash the bowls. He absently hummed the tune to the Narmarie as he worked, and at first Lasselanta was just waiting for dishes to dry, but then she noticed what it was he was humming.

"That song," she said curiously. "I've heard it before, but I only remember the first part. What is it called?"

Legolas looked surprised, "It is the Namarië."

"How does the rest of it go?"

He looked slightly puzzled that she would not remember, but sang anyway,

"_Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,  
yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!  
Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier  
mi oromardi lissë-miruvóreva  
Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar  
nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni  
ómaryo airetári-lírinen._

_Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva?_

_An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo  
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë  
ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë  
ar sindanóriello caita mornië  
i falmalinnar imbë met,  
ar hísië untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.  
Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!  
Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar!  
Nai elyë hiruva! Namárië!"  
_

He had a clear baritone voice and Lasselanta found herself haunted by the sad tale of the rift between Valimar and Middle Earth. She was so immersed in the beauty of the long-forgotten song that she forgot about the dishes, and Legolas had finished both the dishes and the song, while they piled up in the rinse basin, un-dried. He shot her a bemused glance and gestured toward the dishes, which she hastily began to dry. He gave a low chuckle and she looked at him indignantly. Then her face softened, and she said, "My mother used to sing me that song, but I only remembered the first two lines because they contained the origins of my name. _Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron_!" she sang softly, remembering.

Legolas looked at her in shock, "Your voice, I have heard it before!" Lasselanta looked confused. "Last night," he continued, "When the stars rose."

"You heard that?" Lasselanta was incredulous. "How could my voice carry that far?"

Legolas smiled, "You were upwind from us and I am an elf. Do you need any other explanation?" Lasselanta just shook her head, smiled, and finished drying the last dish. She stacked them all up, and was about to put them away, when Legolas once again took them off her hands and silently started to do it for her, only to have her take them back again.

"Absolutely not," she chastized. "That shoulder has not even yet begun to heal, no matter that you are an elf." She put the dishes all in their proper spots. "Besides, you need rest." Legolas tried to protest, but she held up her hand to silence him. "Come," she beckoned. "You need sleep to heal."

"What about Gimli?" Legolas queried amusedly, gesturing toward the still snoring dwarf."

"I will take care of Gimli," she replied. "Now get yourself to bed, Master Elf," and she herded him toward her own bedroom. He sighed and allowed himself to be herded and was amazed at the room she opened to him.

The walls were smoother than the hall and the other rooms and this floor was laid with green soapstone tiles instead of bare stone. Most marvelous of all was a skylight. It was a huge chunk of rock crystal set into the ceiling and veined with hairline fractures and other impurities that refracted the light into the room. Legolas could not see the sky, but he basked in the light.

Lasselanta noted this and said, "So I supposed you'd rather not sleep here?" and gestured toward an alcove bed with the cupboard doors open. It was a cozy nest, but got pitch black when you closed the doors, and while Lasselanta found it warm and comforting, she was sure that the blond elf would feel trapped inside. Legolas looked at the alcove and nearly blanched at the thing.

"If you don't mind..." he trailed off and looked up longingly at the skylight. Lasselanta just chuckled and hauled the feather tick out of her bed. "Oh! You don't have to - I can sleep on the ground..." he protested.

"Nonsense!" Lasselanta interrupted firmly. "I'm not sleeping in this room anyway," and with that, she dumped the feather bed on the floor and began arranging it into a comfy nest. She was busily fluffing a pillow when a pair of lean hands came into her line of vision and gently took the pillow away.

"Lasselanta," he quietly admonished with a small smile, "I will be fine on my own." She straightened and looked him straight in the eye.

Certain he was telling the truth, she nodded once and said, "If you need anything, I'll be in my workshop. It's just down the hall, the green door on the right." Legolas just looked at her silently, then put his hand over his heart and made a small bow. After a moment of awkward silence, Lasselanta left.


	3. Run Lassa Run

_Ai_! Lasselanta thought as she closed the door behind her. _That elf! I know not what to do with him!_ She sighed and made her way back to the main room to check on Gimli. The dwarf was sleeping more deeply now. Lasselanta knew this because his snoring had gotten louder. She smiled ruefully, half glad of the company, half annoyed at her disturbed peace. She dismissed the second half and gently covered Gimli with a warm blanket, then grinned to see Celebrindal curled up on the dwarf's feet, keeping them warm. Lasselanta leaned down and tousled the wolf's ears before heading back to her workshop.

* * *

Legolas paced about, restless and unable to sleep. Lasselanta's room was rather spare in comparison with the opulence of his father's halls, but it was comforting in it's simplicity. She had returned her twin swords to their mount on the wall by the door. Legolas curiously drew one from it's simple leather scabbard. It had a one-handed hilt that was wrapped in odd dark blue leather. The pommel was metal inset with a polished midnight blue lapis lazuli that was veined with white. The crossbar was simple and straight with flared ends, and the blade itself was of a beautiful watered steel, straight and tapered. It was flexible enough to slash and resist shattering, but strong enough to thrust and parry well. It was gorgeous and well-balanced, and Legolas was almost positive Lasselanta had made it herself. The straight blade was odd in a pair of twin swords, which were usually used for slashing, but Legolas had no doubts as to whether or not that particular design inhibited fighting. He had seen enough of Lasselanta's fighting to know that it did not inhibit her in the least. He returned the sword to it's sheath and turned to the decorative wood panels of the alcove's doors. He noted that the vine design was carved exceptionally deeply for wood, as if the carver had too heavy a hand. It was, nonetheless, reminiscent of Rivendell's penchant for covering things in stylistic vines, but this was simpler, less ornate.

Legolas moved on to something half-hidden in the shadows. Upon his approach of it, he was delighted to see that it was a moss garden set in a lovely stone basin. Stones created texture and landscape while different lichens crawled over them and lush and exotic mosses thrived in the dark and the damp. Legolas was sure Lasselanta had traveled far to find so many different varieties, for only three he knew of grew on these plains. She misses the green things of her home. he thought. Then, he realized he did not know where her home was.

There was little else of interest in the room, so Legolas settled down into the nest Lasselanta had so kindly created and stared up into the skylight, prepared for a bevy of Elvish dreams he was certain would not be restful.

* * *

Lasselanta entered her workshop, only to be assaulted by the familiar smell of hot metal and wet stone. One half was devoted to a small forge, just large enough to work a sword. The other half was covered in damp dust and stone chips, with various sizes and types of stone blocks lined against the opposite wall. Lasselanta only ran the forge on overcast days because the risk of the smoke being seen was too great. Today was clear and sunny, so she decided to carve.

She rolled up her sleeves, stripped off her split skirt to reveal soft brown leggings beneath, and wrapped a leather apron around her waist to protect her from the sharp shards of stone. She was working on an intricate plate in the shape of a leaf, using green jasper. A large round table was littered with stone debris and various chisels, rasps, charcoal, and hammers. The plate was still in its rough state: merely a low rectangle of unpolished jasper with charcoal sketchings in the shape of a leaf on it. The edges had already been started and the outer form was beginning to take shape. She sat on her cushioned stool and leaned over the stone, chisel poised, when the door opened.

Lasselanta jumped at the sound and the chisel jarred against the stone, chipping it, and went sliding across the table. She looked up, annoyed, to see Legolas in the doorway, silhouetted by the lamp directly behind him.

Seeing the look upon her face, Legolas backed up, murmured an apology, and started to close the door.

"Wait," Lasselanta called softly. "Come in." Legolas silently obeyed, but stayed near the door. "Did you need anything?"

"No," he replied quietly with a small smile. "I couldn't sleep."

"Allow me to hazard a guess," Lasselanta said knowingly, "the sun kept you up?"

Legolas smiled ruefully, "I fear I have grown too used to darkness." His eyes turned to the rows of her work on the shelves against the far wall. His eyes reflected admiration, wonder, and the smallest hint of awe. "You work stone," then his eyes lit on the forge, "and metal?"

"Odd crafts for an elf," Lasselanta stated with a strained smile. "I heard it all too often."

"From whom?" Legolas queried softly.

Lasselanta laughed joylessly, "You wouldn't understand." Then she changed the subject, curious, "Why have you 'grown too used to darkness?'"

"Sauron was darkness enough for us all, don't you think?" Legolas questioned. "Imagine being on the forefronts."

Lasselanta looked bewildered, "Who is Sauron?"

Legolas was shocked, "You do not know the Dark Lord?"

Lasselanta laughed again, still confused, "I have been away from 'civilization' for centuries, remember?"

He thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you remember the tales of the One Ring?"

"Yes, of course," replied Lasselanta. "Though I fear my memory may be faulty on some parts."

"Sauron was the creator of the One Ring," Legolas said carefully, hoping to trigger her memory. Luckily, it worked.

"Oh yes!" Lasselanta exclaimed. "Of course! Back in the Second Age! Though," she laughed ruefully herself, "I wasn't even alive during the War of the Ring."

"The Ring was found," Legolas stated flatly. "And I was one of a group sent to go into the depths of Mordor to destroy it. The ringbearer was a hobbit..."

"A what?" asked Lasselanta, now completely confused.

"A... _perian_," he tried to clarify.

"A halfling?" Lasselanta attempted. "But what does that mean?"

"They are the missing race," Legolas replied with a grin. "There are Elves, Men, Dwarves, Ents and Hobbits." Lasselanta gave him an incredulous look, but he continued, "We traveled far through many hindrances and lost four of our number, only three returned. The group soon broke up, I followed with Aragorn and Gimli to search for two hobbits that had been captured by orcs. We went into Rohan..."

"Wait," Lasselanta interrupted again. Legolas patiently waited, "I know Gimli, but who is Aragorn?"

"Aragorn is Isildur's Heir," he explained. "He fought bravely in the battle of Helm's Deep and is now King of Gondor."

"And Rohan is a country of men?" she asked.

"Yes, they are the Horselords of the east. May I continue?"

"Oh! Yes, please do."

"As I was saying, we followed the orcs into Rohan, but they had been destroyed by the Rohirrim, and our hobbit friends had been lost, so we traveled to see King Theoden. We told him of the danger of Sauron, Sarumon, and the One Ring. He took his people to the stronghold of Helm's Deep and prepared to fend off any siege Sauron managed to muster. In the end, he mustered ten thousand orcs, but we held our own until Gandalf returned."

"I'm sorry," Lasselanta apologized, "but who are Gandalf and Sarumon?"

"They are wizards. Gandalf was once grey, and Sarumon white, but Sarumon grew corrupted and aided Sauron in his evil endeavors. Gandalf then defeated a balrog and became Gandalf the White, and he eventually cast Sarumon out of Isengard."

"Thank you," she said meekly and waited for him to continue.

"During the battle of Helm's Deep, two hobbits, Frodo and Sam, were traveling through Mordor, into Sauron's stronghold in order to cast the One Ring back into the fires of Mount Doom. We were the distraction. Luckily, Gandalf's plan worked, and Frodo and Sam somehow made it to Mount Doom and destroyed the Ring. I still don't know the whole story. But after that, the pervading darkness cleared, we were all still alive, and Aragorn was King." Legolas smiled, reminiscing. "One of his first orders as King was to send Gimli and me back to our homelands to bring back their beauty and strength in order to restore Osgiliath and the rest of Gondor."

"You left things out," Lasselanta teasingly reproved. "Someday I will hear the whole story, but that will do for now." Legolas smiled and retrieved her chisel. "Thank you," she said as he handed it to her. She poised the chisel again, about to strike, when she sighed and put it down. "I cannot concentrate. Perhaps you would like to go for a walk?"

Legolas' eyes lit up, "You mean, outside!"

Lasselanta grinned, "Yes, and perhaps you can teach that horse of yours some manners while we're out." With that, she led him back to the main room and could just feel the barely contained energy radiating from his lithe form. "I will have to blindfold you," Lasselanta warned as they walked and felt the energy dip a bit, then rise back up.

"I do not mind," Legolas confessed. "Just being outside and smelling fresh air is enough for me." Lasselanta smiled as they entered the room.

Gimli was still asleep and Legolas gave a wry grin to see Celebrindal curled up on his feet. The wolf opened his eyes and lifted his head, but didn't move. Lasselanta gestured for him to stay, then found the same length of supple leather she had blindfolded Legolas with early that morning. She held is up suggestively and he turned with a sigh, allowing her to blindfold him. Then she took his lean hand and led him up the stair to the outside world.

* * *

When they walked outside, Legolas tugged her hand to a stop and merely stood in the sunlight, letting the breeze ruffle his hair with a look of pure joy on his face. Lasselanta grinned, tugged his hand, and said, "Let's run."

Legolas needed no other urging. His Elven senses kept his footing and Lasselanta's hand guided his direction. Even with all his experience with travel and battle, Lasselanta nearly outran him. After a time that could've been an eternity or a few seconds, Legolas felt a slight tug on his hand as Lasselanta slowed, the stopped. Then she let go and untied the blindfold.

He was nearly blinded by the brilliance of the sunlight and the pure blue of the midmorning sky. He just stood and leaned into the wind, then found that they were on the top of a large outcropping of granite overlooking a small valley that was brushed in purple heather. Legolas could see for miles and miles from that point. He turned and looked at Lasselanta, who was grinning at him. She knew all along how much he had needed this.

"Thank you," he said simply, with his whole heart behind it. Her grin faded to a penetrating look, divining what she thought was there. When she found she was right, she smiled again, winked, and began to run again. Legolas couldn't resist giving chase.

She ran like a deer. Or a wolf, he couldn't decide which. Her footsteps never faltered, she ran with ease, and leapt with grace. Legolas was doing his tired best to keep up, but he knew that even fully refreshed he probably would not have been able to catch her.

Finally, she flew over the edge of a hill and disappeared. When Legolas reached the top, he paused and looked down to see an oak, and no Lasselanta. He climbed carefully down the hill, mindful that a huge leap like that could hurt his shoulder quite a bit, and looked about for her. It only took a few moments of silence to hear her breath and feel her energy radiating from the top of the huge oak. He pretended not to notice and wandered off around a hill. He then crept back up to the hill she jumped off of, then, when she was looking the other way, took a running leap into the tree behind her.

She spun around, then laughed and stood, surefooted even in the swaying branches. "You caught me," she said, not disappointed in the least.

"Of course I did," Legolas retorted playfully, "I'm a Prince of Mirkwood." Lasselanta stopped smiling at that and turned away to drop out of the tree. Legolas frowned and touched her arm, stopping her. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Lasselanta asked dully.

"That," Legolas said, bewildered. "Let the light go out of you."

"I didn't know I had a light," Lasselanta retorted coolly and dropped to the ground. Legolas sighed, frustrated, then followed suit.

Lasselanta had already started walking back, so Legolas jogged to catch up. They walked in silence, Lasselanta keeping her eyes straight ahead while Legolas kept periodically giving her reproving, frustrated, and sorrowful looks.

After some time, Lasselanta finally stopped, took out the blindfold and said, "Time to go back." She was about to blindfold him when he angrily stopped her.

"No," he said firmly. "Not until you tell me what is wrong."

"Wrong?" she feigned. "Oh no, nothing is wrong...Your Highness," she spat. Legolas, taken aback at her anger just looked at her in hurt silence.

Then he asked, "That is why? Because I had the fortune or… or misfortune, to be born into royalty?"

"No," replied Lasselanta quietly. "Not born to royalty, but to a king."

_She sat in the very top of an ancient maple, head above the canopy, young curls tousled by the breeze.  
_

_"Lasselanta!" a melodious voice called. "It's time for the feast!" _

She merely sighed, took one last, longing look at the brilliant sunset, walked out to the edge of a branch, and dropped the 80 feet straight down.

"Lasselanta," a warm baritone reproved. "What have I told you about dropping out of trees without knowing who was is beneath them?"

"Sorry, ada_," she apologized, not at all regretful. _

"Ah," he dismissed ruefully. "You are just like your mother. Come, we will be late!" With that, he drew his arm around his beautiful wife and they paced to the main hall, graceful in their finery. She looked down at her own fine clothes that had been mussed by the climb and the drop and sighed wistfully. She would never be as beautiful as her mother. The hall was resplendent with all the signs of midsummer, which shone with brilliant blue, gold, and deep green. She and her parents took their places 'below the salt,' where the non-nobility sat in the realm of Thranduil. In their scorned case, they sat well below the salt. Her parents did not seem to care. But she saw the amused glances at her rumpled clothes, the slim white hands that hid smiles at her curly hair.

"Did you see that face?" she caught the barest hint of a whisper. "Must be that ugly human blood in her!" Her cheeks burned with anger and shame, but she continued onward and sat as gracefully as she could beside her lovely parents.

When the feast was concluded, the King himself stood to make an announcement. "I have a perimeter scouting mission that needs volunteers," he announced, while a hint of groan rumbled through the hall, for no one wanted to be taken away from the festivities that would last all week. But soon, 28 elves had volunteered; Thranduil needed two more.

"Tulcameldo," he ordered.

Her father stood, straight and proud, "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"I need your expert woodscraft on this mission," the King continued, then, as if an afterthought, added, "And bring that lovely wife of yours. It's time she took her place among the scouts." This was unfair, and the whole court knew it, for rarely was an unwilling lady ever called upon to scout, but her mother stood with dignity and replied, "I would be happy to accompany my husband, Your Majesty." Thranduil gave a small smile, and, with that finished, he moved on to the game announcements.

She was proud of her parents, but burned at the injustice done to them. When she had controlled her anger, she realized that they spoke of visiting one of their dwarf friends. She also noticed that surrounding elves who could hear the conversation were giving them sidelong glances and whispering amongst themselves. When she could no longer stand the embarrassment, she whispered somewhat to her mother, then stood and left, nearly running into a slim blond figure, and not caring.

Legolas looked at her, confused, and waited for her to go on. When she came out of her reverie, she looked on him with new eyes, trying to remember if there had been any other blond elves in Thranduil's court. Then, she saw that he expected her to continue, so she bitterly said, "I suppose you want the whole story."

"Yes," Legolas answered needlessly.

She sighed and sat cross-legged on the ground. When Legolas had joined her, she began, "Once upon a time, there was a young elf-maid who lived in Belfas." Legolas looked shocked and would've said something, but she held up her hand for silence and continued, "Her name was Elenanna. She met a man there, a silversmith, and they were wed. She happily bore him a daughter, whom she named Aralama. Some time later, the smith died (for he was mortal) and Elenanna was devastated. She traveled with a company of elves to the new stronghold of what is now Mirkwood." Legolas started at this, but held his own tongue this time. Lasselanta continued, "There Elenanna took to grief and soon died of it. Aralama was devastated, but had known about it for some time. After her mother's passing, Aralama married a wood elf named Tulcameldo who was a gifted scout. They later had a young girl named Lasselanta." Legolas then fully understood. "Lasselanta was an odd little girl. She had bright red curly hair and loved to dance and run; something most unfitting for a young child who should've been more disciplined. But as the years passed, she would learn only from her father, her mother, and her swordsmaster, Haldamaite. She loved the beauty of swordswork, and only took to it because Haldamaite once described it to her as a dance. She grew in decades and became better and better at the sword, tried the bow, mastered her father's woodcraft and gleaned stone- and metalwork from her mother. But if Lasselanta was an odd little girl, her parents were odder by far. Her mother worked stone, her father avoided other elves' company, they befriended humans and dwarves. Usually people ignored it (or them), but one person took special note. His name was Thranduil," Legolas have her a wise look as she continued, "and he didn't like the fact that Aralama and Tulcamedo were 'consorting' with dwarves and humans, or that Aralama, one of the very few elves in Mirkwood who could do metal- and stonecraft refused to use it to make beautiful things for him. So, when he had the opportunity to send them both away on what was supposed to be a routine scouting mission during the midsummer festival, he did. Unfortunately, both Aralama and Tulcamedo were killed in a massive orc raid. Haldamaite tried to break the news to Lasselanta gently, but she ran away, with Thranduil's hurtful words following her."

"My father would never be so petty as to hurt a child!" Legolas exclaimed indignantly. Lasselanta just gave him a bleak look veiled in thin anger and age-old hurt. She got up and started walking again, blinking furiously into the wind, hoping that it would dry her tears. "Lasselanta," Legolas repented, following. He sighed, "I couldn't know for sure, but that does not sound like the father I know. What did he say?" She maintained her silence. "Lasselanta," he took her hands, forcing her to turn and face him. "Please?"

Her eyes filled with tears again and she whispered, "He said I was too full of human blood to run far. He didn't care that Haldamaite tried to stop me or go after me. He despised me for my parents." Tears were running down her face and she didn't even notice. Legolas reached up, hesitated, then wiped her cheek with his thumb. She turned away and hastily dashed at her eyes, trying to suppress them.

"You are half-human?" Legolas queried softly.

Lasselanta rounded on him, frustrated and angry, "You are just like your father!" she accused, then began to run.

"Lasselanta!" Legolas called. "Wait!" He set out after her, but well behind to give her privacy and let her wear herself out. Unfortunately for Legolas, this took quite a bit longer than he expected. When she had finally run her fill, Lasselanta threw herself down onto a nearby grassy knoll and stared bleakly up at the cloudless sky. A few moments later Legolas walked up and sat down beside her. He sighed and said, "That is not why I asked." When he was met with silence, he continued, "I have never met anyone who was a _peredhil_ besides Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, and Arwen. I was merely surprised to learn that you were _peredhil_."

"Why?" Lasselanta asked bitterly. "Isn't it obvious? Can't you tell by my utter lack of good looks? My clumsiness? My disgustingly curly hair?"

Legolas was surprised once again by her vehemence. "Who told you that?" he asked gently.

"Everyone," she retorted broadly, then quieted, "The other children, some of the adults. They were right, you know."

"No, I don't know," Legolas smiled. "Lasselanta, whoever told you such things were either malicious or jealous." Then, as an afterthought, "Most likely both. Whoever they were, those elves were definitely not acting as polite elves should."

"They still told the truth," she maintained.

"No," Legolas disagreed. "They didn't. You are probably the least clumsy person I have ever met, and your hair is lovely." He hesitated, then decided to wax poetic, "It is the color of Mirkwood's maple leaves in the fall, and the same tumbled texture of Roaros Falls."

Lasselanta propped herself up on her elbows, gave him a penetrating look, then gave him a pain-filled smirk and said, "You're just saying that to be polite or cheer me up or somewhat. And since you obviously neglected to mention my looks, that means that I am as plain as they come." She got up and started to walk again.

Legolas sighed, momentarily remaining seated, for he was weary. Then he got up, followed, and said, "Does it truly matter if your features are not typical to our race? Though many are beautiful, few are unique. After all, homogeneity does become boring after so many centuries."

Lasselanta turned, cocked her head frustratedly and said, "What is it exactly that you are trying to say?"

"Beauty is relative?" Legolas ventured. When she frowned, he tried again, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder?" No luck. He chuckled ruefully and then said earnestly, "You are not Arwen or Galadriel, but you are lovely and wild and beautiful for your freedom."

Lasselanta narrowed her eyes, looked into his, then said incredulously, "You are serious!"

"Of course I am!" Legolas replied somewhat indignantly. "Did you think I would lie to you?"

"I hardly know, Master Legolas," she replied tartly, deftly suppressing the Lasselanta he had just glimpsed. "I've only just met you."

She had him there, so he stalled by saying, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me by such a formal title."

Lasselanta accepted the tactic change in topic by replying, "Very well, Legolas. But we truly must go back. I'm sure Gimli is wide awake by now and scared out of his wits by Celebrindal." Legolas chuckled at this and agreed, somewhat reluctantly, to be blindfolded once again and they headed back to Lasselanta's haven in the wilderlands.

* * *

Gimli awoke gently, warm, rested, and for perhaps the first time in many a long year, completely free of any sort of ache or pain. But that was not what woke him: it was the sudden chill of his feet that had done so. He stirred and found he had been covered by a soft grey woolen blanket. He sat up drowsily, rubbed his eyes, and found himself staring into the face of a wolf. He gave a rather large jump, strangled a cry, and scooted his chair backward until it hit the wall. The wolf cocked his head inquisitively, but did not move from his spot in the center of the room. Gimli's eyes darted about the room as he assessed his situation. Unfortunately, (Very unfortunately, he thought) the wolf sat between him and the entrance to the stairs, which led outside. He started to reach for his favorite fighting axe, then remembered his bath and his change of clothes. His entire arsenal of weapons were now with his pack, which was on the opposite wall right next to the stair. Then, Gimli also remembered that Lasselanta had seemed at ease with the animal, as if she trusted it. Well, he thought, if she trusts it, so will I. He settled back into his chair to wait for Lasselanta's return. He didn't know where Legolas had gone.

As he sat there, Gimli started to have doubts about his easy trust in Lasselanta. What if she was some sort of sorceress? Well that was foolish. Lady Galadriel was said to be a sorceress and was one of the kindest, wisest, most beautiful elves he had ever met. But what if she had kidnapped Legolas or drugged him for somewhat? He dismissed that idea, for why would she take Legolas elsewhere and leave him here? The only logical explanation he could come up with was that Legolas was sleeping and Lasselanta had gone out or was doing something else. Gimli was startled out of his reverie by a warm presence he felt at his left knee. It was the wolf! But it didn't look fierce. It was grinning, tongue lolling, and it butted it's head under Gimli's hand. He snatched it back, but when the animal looked so sorrowful, he very cautiously returned it and tentatively patted the creature on the head before snatching his hand back again. But the wolf had had a look of pure pleasure in its eyes during the pat, so Gimli bravely stretched out his hand again to stroke the animal's head.

Within moments he was gleefully scratching and stroking and ruffling the wolf's head, and Celebrindal was in sheer heaven. This was how Lasselanta and Legolas found the pair when they returned.

Lasselanta paused at the bottom of the stair, smiling amazedly. "Well, will you look at that?" she said.

"I'm afraid that's a bit of an impossibility," Legolas replied drily, as he was still blindfolded. Lasselanta smiled; her arm darted out, and with a flick of her wrist she undid the blindfold, releasing him. By this time of course, Gimli had noticed their presence, but had not stopped petting Celebrindal.

"You do realize that he is now your slave forever, do you not?" Lasselanta told Gimli laughingly. "Provided of course, you never cease to scratch behind his ears."

"He likes that?" Gimli asked, then furiously did so, garnering such a look of pleasure from Celebrindal that Legolas laughed out loud, but his laugh was cut short by an enormous yawn.

"My dear Legolas," Lasselanta mocked. "Have you fatigued yourself?"

Legolas grinned and replied, "You are a very tiring creature, my lady." She merely gave him a reproving glare at that title.

"Ah!" Gimli surmised. "Has someone taken a tumble without me?" He roared at the innuendo and Legolas merely glanced sideways at Lasselanta before the two broke into peals of laughter. It took a few moments, but Gimli soon realized that they were not laughing for the same reason he was. "What?" he demanded.

"Naught of consequence," Lasselanta replied innocently. "Now come, Master Gimli," she ordered. "We must find you a more suitable place to sleep." She stressed the last word firmly and led Gimli down the hall.

* * *

Legolas watched them go, then collapsed into Gimli's chair and winced as he jarred his shoulder. He wondered at Lasselanta's easy switch from tears to laughter, but remembered the sadness in her eyes. Had he not loved his father, he would've found it quite easy to physically let a few frustrations out on the old elf king, for he knew how petty he could be about his jewels and dwarves, if not his people. As it was, he had to content himself with absently petting Celebrindal and inwardly seething at the injustice of it all. He thought about the run he had just taken, and how he found it easy to believe that Lasselanta had never received a compliment in her life. Oh, she had probably been congratulated by teachers on a particularly well-done sword move, but that was most likely the extent of it. Legolas had yet to meet an elfmaid quite like her, as all of those he had ever met had been quite sure of their own beauty and grace, their intelligence and skill. As he mused about all this, he quite forgot the dark and the oppressiveness of Lasselanta's home, and fatigue overtook him, sending him to the dreams he had avoided before. This time, as the last, he knew they would be anything but restful.


	4. A Horse is a Laureaquen, of Course!

Lasselanta walked down the corridor with Gimli following, and she entered a small room where bolts of cloth and skeins of yarn were stored on one wall, a deep stone basin with a water spigot on the other side.

"I apologize for the lack of an actual guest room," she temporized. "I'm sure you understand that I never expected to have any 'actual' guests."

"I understand completely, my... Lasselanta," replied Gimli with a grin. "But I am very much used to making due. In fact, anything other than the cold ground I'm used to is practically palatial!"

She smiled and said, "Well, you'll still be sleeping on the cold ground, but at least it'll be level, and you'll have this," and she took a feather tick out of a cupboard with a pillow and some blankets. "Now, I don't know how dwarves like to sleep," she said, turning away to get another pillow, "but..." she trailed off, for Gimli had already situated himself deep in the feather bed with a pillow and one light blanket and was fast asleep. She grinned again, knowing that even the ground was infinitely more comfortable than a wooden chair and the poor dwarf was exhausted. She gently shut the door and returned to the great room to lead Legolas back to his own nest, only to find him in Gimli's chair, asleep as well. Perhaps wooden chairs were more comfortable than she knew! She doubted he knew he was so exhausted that his eyes were closed, but she couldn't very well carry him, so she helplessly covered him with the same blanket that had kept Gimli warmed. Then, suppressing a great yawn herself, she asked Celebrindal to guard her elven guest before retiring to her own bed.

Even though it was still broad daylight, Lasselanta gathered up her mangled bedding and returned it to her cupboard bed. She climbed out of her leggings, kicked off her boots, and pulled off her tunic. Then she wrapped herself in her favorite black silk robe and tucked herself into bed, snuggling deep into the sheets that smelled faintly of wood smoke, soap, and green growing things: a remnant of their last inhabitant, however brief that stay was. With that the last thought on her mind, she drifted gently off to the realm of her dreamlands.

* * *

That evening, Legolas awoke with a start. At first, he thought it was from the chilling cold breezing it's way down the stair, but then, he realized that it was the scratching noises from above. Suddenly, a loud whinny pierced the air, and he stood, shedding the blanket, and went for the door; only to find Celebrindal in his way, growling.

"Celebrindal," he spoke low and urgently, "I must go out and see to the horses!" But the wolf was adamant. "Fine," Legolas relented, "Take me to Lasselanta!" Celebrindal understood, but, not wanting to leave his post by leaving the way, took Legolas' hand in his powerful jaws and gently tugged toward the corridor. Legolas smiled despite himself, "You, _mellon_, are one clever wolf."

Celebrindal led him to a door he vaguely remembered from the wee hours of that morning. It seemed like ages ago, but Legolas opened the door to find himself in Lasselanta's familiar room, the once brilliant light from the sky window now the faded grey of twilight. At first, he was bewildered by the lack of a bed, then remembered the carved cupboard doors. He tapped lightly on one, and whispered, "Lasselanta!" It immediately opened, and a hand snaked out to open the other door. Lasselanta sat up, shrouded by the shadows, then swung her bared legs over the side of the bed.

"Is something wrong?" she asked in the same hushed whisper.

"Someone, or something, is after the horses," Legolas replied urgently.

"Right," she replied, all business. She turned away from him and pulled on that mornings' leggings under the robe, which she then let fall to pull on her tunic. Legolas had an unintended glimpse of her bare, muscled back in the fading light before he hastily averted his gaze. She was pulling on her boots as she turned to him and didn't even notice.

"I hope you are not night sighted," she said as she threw her grey cloak over her shoulders and handed him a lighter one of similar color.

"I am not," Legolas replied, somewhat puzzled.

She smiled and explained, "I would not want to test your fighting skills whilst you were blindfolded."

He frowned at this, and asked, "You still do not trust me?"

Her "light," as he had called it, went dark as she replied; "I trust no one." She grabbed her twin swords on the way out, then quickly led him through the great room, where he paused to grab his bow, and crept up the stone stair after her. The lamps ahead of them, though they had been dark, lit themselves to a very soft glow, nearly invisible to anyone without elven eyesight. However, Legolas had the distinctly disconcerting feeling that they were for his benefit alone, and that Lasselanta could get along quite well without them.

His eyes widened in shock as they entered the outpost at a crouch, but he said nothing and when they crept outside, and saw no one, Lasselanta, whose instincts were quite good, stood upright and said quite distinctly, "Damn! They've taken the horses."

"Oh, I very much doubt that," Legolas laughed softly. She looked at him questioningly and he continued, "That was an Elven horse and a hill pony. If they can't outdistance or outlast whatever was chasing them, they could certainly outwit it."

She smiled slightly at that, then looked anxiously at him. He was puzzled by this, until he figured out that she was trying to discern what he thought of the countryside. He obligingly looked about, and discovered that he could just barely see the remains of last night's camp, marked only by an oddly shaped hillock, far in the misty distance. It was then that he realized that the figure he had seen had been Lasselanta, and the bright glint had probably been her hair. A quick survey of the immediate area revealed a large, flat grey stone, the perfect height for a seat and a good view of the sunset. He quickly strode over to it, then turned and asked, "Is this where you watch the sunset and dry your hair?"

She stifled her surprise and replied saucily, "No, it's where the winds dry my hair and I watch the stars come out!" He gave her a half reproving glare, and she laughed quietly, then worriedly changed, "So you won't tell anyone I'm here?"

Legolas knew that asking after her need for secrecy would only bring up the stone wall, so instead he promised, "I won't tell."

"Good," she said, obviously relieved, then continued, "Now you go back to bed whilst I scout the perimeter."

"Nonsense," he replied calmly. "I'm coming with you." She cocked an eyebrow at that, but assented, leaving Celebrindal to guard the door against any further intrusion.

Lasselanta gathered her cloak tightly about her, to hide her hair and white tunic, then proceeded to scout the perimeter as quietly as any elf, but twice as fast. Even with his healing sleep (his shoulder was now just a sore memory), Legolas found it difficult to keep up. He tried to rationalize her acute knowledge of the terrain against his hurt pride, but it was no use: his bow arm was fast, but her feet were just as quick.

She paused behind a large outcropping of rock, gesturing for him to come closer. "There is a band of twenty orcs on the northern horizon," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath in his ear. Legolas peeked around the lichened edge of the rock and strained his eyes, but he could not see anything more than a dark shadow. Now he was certain that she at least had keener eyes than he, if she wasn't night-sighted.

"I will take your word on it," he returned, softly as she. Suddenly, a loud whinny pierced the air.

"They have your horse," she whispered urgently, then glanced again. Legolas swore eloquently, not bothering to quiet his voice.

"Is he fighting, Laureaquen?" he asked, hushed again.

"Yes," came the immediate reply. "But they are too many."

"We must get closer," he said urgently. Lasselanta merely smiled sideways at him, and lead the way down from the rocky foothills onto the gently rolling plain.

At the base of a hill, she crouched again and whispered, "Are you prepared to run again, Legolas?"

He smiled despite himself, and replied, "No, but I will not let them eat my companion, I will follow where you lead, Lasselanta." She nodded once, sharply, then darted out onto the plain, flowing in and out of the shadows. He followed, trying to do the same.

She ran slightly hunched over, cloak trailing behind her, and surprisingly quick in such an odd position. Legolas' back soon ached with the strain, but they kept it up until they were within a few hundred feet of the orcs. Lasselanta flopped down on her stomach and Legolas did the same, thankful for being able to straighten his back once again.

"Will Laureaquen carry us both?" she breathed in his ear, which twitched because her breath tickled.

"Yes," was his reply.

"And does he understand speech?" she asked, and Legolas could see where this was headed.

"Yes," he answered, "He is an Elven horse, he understands me completely."

"Good," she said. "I am going to crawl to the hillock just opposite of you, then I will attack. As soon as I stand, I want you to start shooting, and as soon as your horse is free enough, call to him, jump on his back, and hope that he isn't too tired to outdistance some orcs."

"What about you?" he was suspicious.

"I'll hold them off until you are out of range, and then run after you," she replied, as if it was that simple. "You may have to circle around to pick me up, but it shouldn't take long."

"You'll never survive!" he hissed in her ear. "There are too many of them!"

"I trust in your abilities, Master Legolas," she replied coldly, reverting to formalities. "I am merely asking you to return the favor."

"All right!" he gave in. "But I will not leave without you!"

"I don't intend to let you!" she retorted, and with that, she drew away into the shadows, creeping around the orcs. Legolas was hard pressed to keep his poor eyes on her, but he did so, and when she had circled half- way round, he crept up the hill and readied his bow.

* * *

Lasselanta was nervous. She had never attempted to take on this many orcs before, even with Legolas to help. But she knew she couldn't let Laureaquen, however unfriendly, be killed and eaten by this hideous creatures. So, she slowly and quietly unsheathed her blades, then waited until the orcs were intent on capturing the horse, then she stood, and the first of Legolas' arrows whirred as they flew. She wasted not a moment in attacking, twin blades blurred as she went through the "dance" she had learned from Haldamaite so long ago. She went for vital organs and necks, sometimes lopping off an arm or two that was too good with a blade. All around her, orcs fell to swift arrows and the deadly steel she wielded. Finally, over the shrieks of battle, she heard a loud whinny, and looked up to see Legolas fling himself onto Laureaquen as he ran like the wind.

She lopped off a final head, all the weaponed hands she could find, and took off after them, sheathing her swords as she went. After a few yards, she withdrew her concentration from the orcs and centered it on letting herself fall into the trance that would allow her to run at top speed all night. She had known from the beginning that this would cost her, but she did it anyway and soon, nothing was left but her heartbeat, her breath, and the feel of the ground on her feet.

* * *

Legolas was worried. He had not wanted to leave Lasselanta behind to fight by herself, but when Laureaquen took off, he knew he had to catch it, or neither of them would get out alive. Besides, he had only had two arrows left. As he tried to bring Laureaquen back around to pick up Lasselanta, he marveled at the way she fought: coldly and ruthlessly lopping off heads and limbs, not a thrust wasted on anything other than vital organs. The way she fenced was familiar, he himself had learned similar tactics, but her reflexes were honed to razor sharpness and not a single drop of energy was wasted. Also, she was adept with her right hand as her left, and having two expert swords turned against you was far deadlier than one. He was glad she was on his side.

He finally felt Laureaquen turning around, back toward the orcs, and by the time he was facing them again, he saw Lasselanta running in his direction, faster than anyone he had ever seen, Elf, Human, or otherwise. He urged Laureaquen into a gallop and when he finally reached her, wheeled to run beside her.

She did not even look at him. "Lasselanta!" he yelled, leaning down, arm outstretched. A moment longer and her eyes unclouded. When they lit on him, she immediately grabbed his arm and lightly swung herself up, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist before he felt her go unconscious.

Legolas had little time to think about her, as he lead Laureaquen through a complicated series of twists and turns on different terrains to try and elude any trackers. However, he felt it was just an extra precaution. Lasselanta's fighting skills and her appearance out of nowhere (as well as his own) had frightened the orcs; he was sure of it. They would not be attempting any tracking tonight.

Somewhere along the way, they came upon Gimli's pony, sweating with fright, a large but shallow slash on its haunch. When Legolas whistled to it, it followed gladly, happy to be back in safe company.


	5. Classic Revival

The day was just dawning when they finally returned to Lasselanta's home after Legolas was sure they were not being pursued. He pulled Laureaquen up in front of the outpost and gently released himself from Lasselanta's tight grip. He somehow managed to slide off of Laureaquen's back without letting Lasselanta fall. Then, he pulled her from the horse into his arms and walked inside. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a magnificent chair he hadn't noticed before, and nothing else. The wall directly opposing the doorway was solid stone, and the walls on either side were wooden with the outdoors behind them. Therefore, the entrance to Lasselanta's home could only be through the stone wall. But how to open it? He gently set her down in the chair and pondered the wall, trying some passwords in Sindarin, looking for a secret stone to push and make the door open, and all around giving himself a headache. After several moments of attempting to pace around the horses (who had followed them inside out of fear), Lasselanta stirred and Legolas was immediately at her side. She groaned and shifted, then opened her eyes, blinked rapidly, and looked straight at him.

* * *

She felt like a pile of dung, there was no denying that. Lasselanta's eyes were still closed, but she could smell the fear of the horses and the close familiarity of old wood and wet stone. She decided before even opening her eyes that she was back in her chair in the outpost. As to why she was still there and not inside in her own bed was evident: Legolas did not know how to open the door. She let herself groan from the pain of her stiff limbs and tried to flex them. Finally, she gave up and just opened her eyes. The moonlight was brightly reflecting off of something that glared in her eyes and made her head hurt, so she blinked to adjust, and there he was, blond hair ruffled and collecting moonbeams, staring right at her.

She gave him a small smile, "Pull the center stone out and turn it to the left," she whispered, suddenly noticing that her throat was completely dry. All he did was look at her.

* * *

He couldn't believe this elf-maid. First, she had saved Laureaquen in a huge battle, then had run like the wind, leapt onto a moving horse, been jostled unconsciously for miles, and was suddenly lucid enough to give instructions and a solution to a problem she couldn't've known existed? Quite frankly, Legolas was completely amazed.

"Well?" she prompted after clearing her throat. "Are you going to do it so we can get inside and you can get me some water, or not?" Before he could stop himself, training took over and he bowed deeply to that commanding, if hoarse tone and did as he was bidden.

After a moment of fumbling to find the correct stone, Legolas followed her instructions and the entire wall swung open to reveal a flight of stone stairs. He turned to help her again, only to find her attempting to rise, nearly falling in the process. He deftly scooped her up in his arms and proceeded down the stair, only to hear the clopping hooves of Laureaquen and Gimli's pony behind them.

"No!" he turned, saying to his horse. "Absolutely not! This is Lasselanta's home, not a stable!"

"Nonsense!" she croaked. "They're welcome inside after so harrowing a night!"

He cocked an eyebrow and looked down at her mischievous face, "We'll just make Master Elf clean up any mess you make!" He merely sighed, shook his head, and continued down the stairs. The Fëanorian lamps lit themselves as they passed and at the base of the stair, Gimli, who had since wakened, was waiting with Celebrindal. He jumped up as he saw them and roared, "You idiot! What have you done to our hostess!" Then, he saw the horses, "And what are those foul beasts doing inside!"

"I invited them," Lasselanta whispered with a devilish smile. Legolas just stood there, trying to suppress a chuckle at the look of astonishment and a bit of hurt on Gimli's face.

After a moment, Gimli remembered himself and roared, "Well? Get the girl to bed you great Elven oaf!"

"I don't need sleep, Gimli," Lasselanta admonished and weakly struggled in Legolas' arms. "And I'd thank you kindly to put me down, Legolas." He gently obliged, but as soon as he let go, her knees buckled and he scrambled to catch her again. "Maybe a chair," she ventured sheepishly. He immediately picked her up again and set her down in that same chair that had earlier held both Gimli and himself. "I'll need my tea," Lasselanta started as Legolas went for the cupboard. "The tea that is in my apothecary," she finished. When Legolas looked at her questioningly, she answered, "It's at the end of the corridor on the left. The tea should be in a stone jar labeled 'Restorative.'" Celebrindal curled at her weary feet and while Gimli hovered and fretted, Lasselanta just rested her tired and overtaxed body. Legolas returned momentarily and she caught him surreptitiously sniffing the open jar.

"Do you know what is in it?" Lasselanta questioned hoarsely.

"Flax, thistle, thyme, mayweed, and winterbloom?" Legolas guessed.

"Not, bad," she smiled, impressed. "Not bad at all. Now it needs to steep in hot water. Not boiling, mind you, but as hot as you can get it without actually boiling it." He silently obeyed, putting the kettle back on to heat.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or not?" Gimli demanded of Legolas, who sighed wearily.

"The orcs were after the horses and they had Laureaquen surrounded, so Lasselanta put on quite a show," he smiled at her, "and pretty much destroyed them while I rescued Laureaquen and then somehow she managed to catch up with us with Laureaquen going at full gallop. She obviously collapsed of exhaustion. We found your hill pony on the way back."

"I don't care about the damn pony!" roared Gimli. "What I want to know is why you risked our Lasselanta's life and limb to rescue that foolish animal of yours!"

Lasselanta glanced at him sharply and replied quietly, "I was the one who went after Laureaquen, Gimli. He's a good horse." Laureaquen, as if he could understand, bowed his head in shame at the way he had treated her earlier. _Good_, she thought, _Maybe now he'll learn some manners_.

Gimli just hemmed and hawed while Legolas took the steaming water off of the tile stove. He fetched a soapstone cup from the cupboard and was about to add the water to it, when Lasselanta stopped him.

"First put two pinches of the tea in the cup, then pour the water over it, so it steeps properly," she instructed. He did as he was told, then brought the cup over to her, but she shook her head, "Let it steep for a few moments more," then she leaned back her head and closed her eyes, resting.

Legolas set the cup on the table, where it silently steamed, and leaned against the wall. Gimli had situated himself on the floor and was sulkily petting Celebrindal, who was only slightly distracted from his concern over his mistress.

* * *

Lasselanta's thoughts were whirling inside her weary head. Exhaustion had made them rather random; she wondered what she was doing letting the elf and the dwarf stay with her when the obviously should be on their way, she wondered what in Middle Earth the orcs were up to, but most of all, she wondered if all these years she'd spent out in the middle of nowhere had really been worth it. Was she actually right about Thranduil? If he was anything like his son, perhaps she had misjudged him. Perhaps she had overreacted to the snide remarks of the other elves? Then, a long-forgotten memory dredged itself up and she remembered:

_"Good!" Haldamaite encouraged, twirling to block Lasselanta's lunge. "Very good!" They spun and swirled together in a dance as Lasselanta sparred with her teacher, left-handed. Haldamaite disarmed her in one deft stroke and Lasselanta watched sorrowfully as her lovely new sword went spinning across the salle. "Excellent work, Lasselanta," Haldamaite praised, and Lasselanta glowed. "You're progressing more quickly than I thought! Learning to fight with your left hand was a good idea and will be very useful if you ever find yourself in combat." _

"Thank you, Mistress," Lasselanta replied, with a small bow.

"Now go and get cleaned up and ready for lunch," Haldamaite ordered. "Your mother'd have my head if I sent you to a meal with His Majesty in your sopping leathers." Lasselanta just flashed her swordswork teacher a big smile and ran off to the bath house, careful to stop at her room and properly care for her sword first, of course. She grabbed a pale green dress (she knew if she attempted to wear anything else the other elves would have fits) and trotted off to the gorgeous bath house to get rid of her accumulated sweat and grime.

Once inside, she saw with dismay that some other elf maidens already occupied the main bath, so she headed for the more secluded, private baths off to the side.

"Lasselanta!" trilled one of them. Lasselanta stopped and slowly turned to face the girls lounging in the water. "Would you like to join us?"

Lasselanta just stared in surprise, then composed herself and replied, "Oh, no thank you. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Besides, I wouldn't want to bother you."

The maiden smiled maliciously and said, "Good, because we wouldn't want your dirty human-spawned corpse in our lovely bath anyway, would we, ladies?" The other three burst out into lovely, tinkling laughter, and Lasselanta turned away, her face burning. She rushed to the bath, scrubbed quickly with icy water to take away the heat of her anger, then braided her wet and unruly hair before throwing on the green dress and a pair of matching soft shoes. Once outside, she looked up to sky she saw that she was going to be late.

She breezed into the palace room where they would be having lunch slightly out of breath. One of the royal retainers sent a disdainful glance her way, so Lasselanta looked down at her clothes to see if anything was wrong, then realized that her clothing was perfectly fine, and it was her human-like appearance that the retainer so scorned. Face aflame for the second time that day, Lasselanta meekly took her place at her mother's side.

"Aralama," the King addressed her mother. "My eldest is to be betrothed this coming autumn, and I am at a loss for a suitable betrothal gift for his fiancée. I need you to create a silver and emerald necklace for him to present to his future wife."

"I'm afraid that will be impossible, Your Majesty," Aralama replied. Lasselanta looked at her in shock; never had her mother so outright refused the King.

"I beg your pardon?" queried Thranduil, even more shocked than Lasselanta.

"Until you repay our dear friends," she referred to the dwarves she and Tulcamedo had befriended more than a decade ago, "I cannot in good conscience acquiesce to Your Majesty's request."

"It is not a request," Thranduil replied icily. "It is a royal order."

"Then I fear I must disobey Your Majesty's orders," Aralama answered calmly.

"I could easily have you banished, Aralama," Thranduil threatened darkly.

"You would then lose all three of us, Your Majesty," Tulcamedo interjected.

"Three?" Thranduil questioned, slightly confused, then his gaze rested for the first time on Lasselanta. "Oh yes, I suppose you'd take the peredhil_ with you, wouldn't you?" He made the word _peredhil_ sound dirty, as if the word itself left a vile taste in his mouth. Lasselanta looked down at her lap, lower lip trembling until she bit it to still the motion. Her mother gently took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. _

"No," Thranduil said, smiling quite nastily. "You'll stay. In fact," he was warming to his subject, now. "You won't leave Mirkwood at all, unless ordered on a mission, and you're to have absolutely no contact with those greedy dwarves you call your friends." He smiled again, making sure to look at each of them in turn. Lasselanta averted her gaze when his eyes fell on her. "You're dismissed." Tulcamedo and Aralama rose gracefully and calmly, he bowed and she curtsied while Lasselanta hastily rose and did the same, and the three exited together, leaving the sumptuous lunch untouched behind them.

Lasselanta awoke from her reverie to the slightly pungent smell of her tea. She felt Legolas' eyes on her and met his worried gaze. "I'll take that tea now," she said hoarsely and smiled at him. He smiled worriedly back and held the cup to her mouth. "I can drink by myself" she protested, but when she tried to take the cup, her hand shook so badly that she spilled some of the hot tea on her lap. Legolas just gave her a reproving look and compromised by helping her drink.

As soon as the soothing warmth hit her throat, Lasselanta felt better. She hurriedly drained the cup, since it tasted vile, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes, ready for sleep.

* * *

Lasselanta was already asleep when Legolas looked up from setting the cup down. He chuckled gently, _You don't need sleep, hmm?_ he thought, and Gimli looked up at him.

"What's so funny?" Gimli asked, puzzled and thoroughly done sulking.

"Nothing," Legolas replied, looking fondly at Lasselanta's sleeping form.

Gimli suspiciously scrutinized his elven friend. "I think you have feelings for our lovely hostess!"

"Of course I do," replied Legolas, slightly mocking, "feelings of friendship. Don't you have them as well?"

"You do have feelings for her!" Gimli exclaimed. Legolas hastily shushed him and pointed wordlessly at the sleeping Lasselanta. "Ah, yes, I know," Gimli replied dismissively, but he was already quieter. "Shouldn't you put her somewhere more comfortable?"

Legolas could've kicked himself for not thinking of that earlier. So he scooped her up once again and let Celebrindal lead the way toward her room. Gimli stayed put, helpfully washing Lasselanta's cup.

Just as Legolas was wondering how on earth he was going to open the door with his arms full of Lasselanta, Celebrindal nosed the latch to and butted the door open. "Well aren't you just a useful fellow," Legolas retorted, and carefully swung Lasselanta inside. Luckily, the alcove doors were still wide open from last night, so he merely deposited her in bed. Then he realized that she was still in her dusty, muddy clothes she'd fought in. He hesitated, saw her black robe from last night in a fluid pile on the floor, picked it up, and decided that she'd probably rather risk her modesty than spend another night in those clothes. He undressed her as quickly as he could without waking her (though she was in a very deep sleep) and kept his eyes closed as often as possible. Legolas was no prude, but he didn't want to affront her privacy. Finally, she was secure in the robe, and he tucked her deep into bed, closing the alcove doors behind him.

He returned to the great room and found Gimli cleaning and honing his weapons as they had been too exhausted the previous day to even take care of the horses, much less their weapons. He first tended to the pony's wound, salving the large cut with the same stuff Lasselanta had used on him, then he hunkered down beside his travel companion to care for his own things, but his mind was elsewhere. He still could not figure out this elfmaid who was so wise and yet so naïve. Why had she left Mirkwood? Was it really because of his father? Why did she choose to stay here, in the foothills of the Misties? Why did she not go to Rivendell or Lothlorien? Had she no other kin? Finally, his mind quieted, and he settled down to the task at hand.


	6. Exodus Rex

Gimli woke cold and cramped on the stone floor of Lasselanta's home. Celebrindal was curled up on one of the wooly rugs next to the tile stove, which was still radiating heat. Laureaquen and the hill pony both dozed, three-legged, in a corner. No natural light pierced the solid rock, but Fëanor's lamps, glowing softly, illuminated the large room. The fire in the tile stove was dying, so Gimli searched for some fuel and stoked it. Celebrindal lifted his head to watch, but didn't get up. He straightened to look about the room for Legolas, and finally found him folded into one of the room's many carved alcoves. Gimli sighed and plopped into the wooden chair that stood next to the table. His weapons were still strewn about the floor where they had fallen after he'd dozed off. Now that he was more comfortable on the chair (which, funnily enough, was uncommonly comfortable for a wooden chair), Gimli was less inclined to gather his weapons and put them away. They were clean at least. Lying on the floor for a few hours more wouldn't hurt them. He sighed and closed his eyes, ready to doze blissfully off once again, when he heard something at the head of the stair. He froze in place and stared at the stairway. Celebrindal growled low in his throat, tensed on the floor with his ruff standing on end. The horses nickered softly and fidgeted, obviously just as aware of the danger as Celebrindal. Gimli listened closely and heard a loud snuffling, then a pair of voices urgently speaking the Black Tongue. He knew that orcs had found their hideout. How, he knew not, but he was sure that Lasselanta had protections to keep them from discovery. He warily got up and grabbed his favorite pair of axes, and glanced back at Celebrindal, who stood up. It was then that Gimli realized his folly in stoking the fire in the tile stove. The smoke had to go somewhere, didn't it? And now he didn't dare douse it, because not only would that send up more smoke, but it would alert the orcs even more if the smoke were to abruptly stop.

Gimli paused to think, then went to shake Legolas awake. The elf woke at his touch and was about to speak when Gimli gestured for silence, then cupped his ear and pointed toward the stair. Legolas listened intently for a moment, then his eyes widened in shock.

"We must wake Lasselanta," he whispered urgently. Gimli merely jerked his head in the direction of her room, confident that the elf could move more silently than he ever could. He was proven right when Legolas fluidly rose from his place in the alcove and practically flew down the hall to Lasselanta's room. Gimli listened again toward the stair, and was distressed to find that the conversation had stopped and the scrape of metal on stone had replaced it. He took a stance to one side of the entrance and raised his axes, ready to surprise anyone who came down the stair.

* * *

Lasselanta woke instantly when she felt a cool touch on her shoulder. Her open eyes helped her realize that she had somehow gotten to her bed and into her favorite black sleeping robe last night. But the fact that Legolas was quietly and forcefully speaking her name made her realize that something was wrong.

"What," she whispered as she rose from the alcove. "What is it?"

"Orcs have found us," he replied in a low voice, stepping away from the bed so she could get out and get dressed.

Lasselanta was already halfway toward her armoire when he words stopped her dead in her tracks. "What?" she breathed incredulously. "They are here? _Now_?"

"Yes," he replied. "And Gimli is going to have to hold them off alone if we don't hurry."

"They'll never get in," Lasselanta negated, sure of herself. "They aren't smart enough." She rummaged through the armoire, pulling out a pair of charcoal grey leggings and a dark, dark green tunic.

"These are not normal orcs," Legolas argued. "They are _Uruk-Hai_, faster, stronger, smarter than the orcs you have dealt with before."

"If _you_ could not find a way in, do you think _they_ can?" she hissed and dropped her robe, beginning to dress.

Legolas hastily turned his back and retorted, "_I _was not trying to force my way in!" Lasselanta wordlessly grabbed her swords from the wall and brushed past him and out the door. He stifled a sigh of frustration and quickly followed.

They found Gimli pressed against the wall on one side of the stair, Celebrindal on the other. Both were tense and silent, listening to the orcs' efforts against the stone. Lasselanta and Legolas joined them, weapons ready and poised for attack. Finally the scraping noises ceased, and the orcs argued unintelligibly. Finally their voices began to fade away until they could not be heard. Everyone in the room, animals included, relaxed visibly. Lasselanta ran a tired hand through her tangled hair and said, "We have to leave." Legolas and Gimli looked at her in shock. "They know someone is here," she said quietly. "We are no longer safe; this place is no longer secret." She sighed, "Pack your things, we head out as soon as we are ready," and she walked back to her room.

Legolas and Gimli exchanged long glances, then did as she asked.

* * *

Lasselanta's hands shook as she stuffed her sturdy traveling clothes into a large pack. After decades of safety, they had finally found her. She could no longer afford to stay, but where would she go? Worries and questions flitted through her mind as she found he sturdiest pair of boots, her soft stealth pair, a heavy felted-wool cloak, and her hunting knives. It pained her to leave most of her things behind, but they had to be sacrificed for speed. She did include one nice dress in her pack. One never knew who one might have to impress.

When finished in her bedroom, she went to the forge and took her best and most beloved stoneworking tools, as well as her most delicate metalworking tools, wrapping them in their leather cases. They would be heavy, but she couldn't leave them behind if she was never to return. They were added to her leather clothes pack, which she lung over her shoulder, travel boots in hand, and headed for the great room. Legolas and Gimli were there, waiting. Gimli was sharpening his axes while Legolas saddled the horses. They looked up when she entered, and Legolas looked slightly worried. She barely noticed as she went to the cupboard and packed her favorite soapstone tea cups and a lightweight copper kettle. This she packed into a small satchel, wrapping the tea cups in some small but very absorbent towels. She added a few pounds of mixed grains, some dried fruit, and jerky. She left her things in the great room, then briskly walked down the corridor to her apothecary. She grabbed her medicinal kit, several cloth bags of nutritious and medicinal teas, as well as some extra bandages and antiseptic healing salves which she added to the medicinal kit. She paused momentarily, sad to leave the apothecary, which contained all her knowledge of the indigenous plants and everything she'd ever learned about medicine. She inhaled the crisp clean scent of herbs with undertones of wet stone and sighed loudly.

"Is something wrong?" Lasselanta jumped and spun, heart pounding. She laughed nervously, "You frightened me, Legolas."

He looked worried, "My apologies." He gave her a penetrating look with those clear blue eyes of his. "Are you all right? Because we do not have to leave here if you do not wish it."

She laughed harshly, "I do not seem to have much of a choice!" She leaned back against the slate counter, looking down at her nervously twining fingers. "I do not want to leave," she said quietly. "This is my home, however isolated and crude." Her eyes misted slightly and she blinked rapidly to prevent tears.

"Where will you go?" Legolas asked softly.

"I know not," she replied. "I'd thought to go to Bree and perhaps west from there, but I do not look forward to starting over."

"Why don't you come with us?" he asked, suddenly inspired. "Yes! You could return with us to Mirkwood and see that not all Elves are like those who have treated you so terribly! Or we could go to Rivendell. There you would surely be welcome. Elrond is powerful and wise, you could surely find a place within his household!"

Lasselanta was shocked. She had not expected such kindness from this elf. He had disproved the proverb "like father, like son," on more than one occasion. She looked at him in surprise and suddenly found her eyes filling with tears. Then, quite unexpectedly, even to herself, she dropped her face into her hands and sobbed outright.

* * *

As Legolas looked into her wide, stormy grey eyes, he was surprised to see her welling tears change suddenly into a torrent of weeping. Momentarily floored by this abrupt change of emotion, he paused, then gently folded her shaking form into his arms. The moment he touched her, the sobbing paused, then continued, quieter and less hysterically. Her arms slowly wound themselves around his torso and Lasselanta buried her face in his shoulder. He could tell she was desperately trying to compose herself, so he said quietly, "Do not hold it in, cleanse yourself." So her weeping continued, growing continually quieter, and he boldly stroked her hair, saying nothing, intent on simply being a comforting force. Gradually she quieted, reduced to sniffling, and began to draw away. He found himself releasing her quiet reluctantly.

She sniffed and said, "I'm sor-"

He cut her off. "No apologizing. I understand what it is to feel the pull to leave, and yet wish to stay home." She smiled wanly through her tears, furtively wiping her face with her hands. His mouth quirked into a lopsided smile and he handed her a piece of stray gauze. She smiled outright at that and thanked him, scrubbing at her tearstains. Then she noticed his tunic.

She gestured toward his shoulder and said ruefully, "I'm afraid I've gotten you a bit damp."

Legolas looked down and saw that his tunic was indeed quite splotchy with her tears. He smiled, "No harm done, it'll dry quickly. The real question is, will you come with us?"

Lasselanta let out a half laugh, half sob. "Your kindness seems to know no bounds, Legolas. Even after my harsh words." She looked at her feet, embarrassed at her previous reaction.

Legolas raised her chin with a few fingers and replied, "It is you who have been kindness incarnate, Lasselanta. First rescuing two strangers, then risking your life for a rather rude horse, and treating us all like kings!" He winced at the analogy. "Sorry. And I apologize for doubting your faith in the protections of your own home. I should've known better."

"No," she replied softly. "You were right. Eventually they will find a way in. I am only sorry that I cannot bring everything with me." She sighed sadly, "They will destroy it all, you know."

"If you come with us, maybe some day we can return," Legolas suggested. "With a proper squadron of Elven warriors and a nice caravan to collect your things."

Lasselanta laughed sadly at that, "Your optimism is endearing, Legolas, but I don't think I shall ever return, even if I could." She sighed and then gathered her confidence about her like a cloak. "I think I _shall_ go with you and Gimli. As far as Rivendell, if not Mirkwood."

Legolas felt a slow smile spread across his face. "Good, I'd like that." Then he seemed to remember the situation at hand. "I think Gimli is perhaps wondering if we've left out some back door without him!" Lasselanta smiled and he reached over to take up the medicine kit and placed his hand lightly on the small of her back to reassure and guide her as she picked up the tea and they returned to the great room.

* * *

When they entered, Lasselanta saw Gimli tentatively patting his hill pony on the nose, and she grinned. She also smiled to see Celebrindal curled safely at the feet of a curious Laureaquen. She was glad Celebrindal had made peace with the horses. If they were to travel together, they couldn't afford conflict to hinder their speed.

"Oh good," Gimli said, looking rather too relieved. "I thought perhaps you'd needed another tumble!" Lasselanta snickered, and Legolas gave her an amused look of surprise. She merely raised a mocking eyebrow and began to stow the teas.

"We're nearly ready to go, Gimli," Legolas answered, since Lasselanta had once again abruptly changed moods in that strange way of hers.

"Ah," Gimli said, giving the pony one last pat. "Good to hear. I am anxious to avoid those orcs and continue our journey. Though I must say that I have learned a bit more of stonework from _your_ skills, Lasselanta, than I ever expected to on the way to Mirkwood." Lasselanta reddened slightly, and smiled.

"Thank you Gimli, that means a great deal to me."

"Well," he replied gruffly, "'tis true!"

Legolas had been fastening packs to Laureaquen (and soothing him for having to be a pack animal) when he thought of something rather important. "Lasselanta?" he asked. "What are we going to do about Fëanor's lamps?"

"Well," she replied slowly. "I suppose we'll just have to leave them, won't we?"

"Surely we cannot!" exclaimed Gimli. "There are not this many Fëanorian lamps left in existence in the whole of Middle Earth!"

"Gimli is right," Legolas agreed. "We cannot merely leave them. They are not breakable, are they?"

"They've been encased in thick, sanded glass, which could crack, but I do not think the crystals themselves are breakable," Lasselanta replied. "They are very old, older than my mother, possibly older than her mother."

"Have you any soft leather or furs?" Gimli asked. "If we could wrap them they would be safe. They are possibly the most valuable Elvish stonework to be had anywhere."

Lasselanta could not fathom the value placed on such trivial things as lamps, and her puzzlement was evident in her face, but she went to her storeroom and came back with an armful of leathers. "Will these do?" she queried.

"Perfectly," Legolas said with a smile as he took them from her arms. Lasselanta smiled in return as she went to take down the lamps. Gimli merely 'humphed' and helped Legolas wrap the precious objects as Lasselanta handed them to him (rather carelessly, he thought, but then, they were her lamps).

"There, all done!" Lasselanta said as she handed down the last one. Legolas wrapped it up and they were suddenly plunged into darkness.

After a bit of a pause, Legolas said slowly, "Perhaps we'll leave this one out for now," and uncovered the last lamp, which shone brilliantly, nearly lighting the entire room. Lasselanta chuckled and they packed them into a large leather bag she'd brought with, securing it all to Laureaquen's back with the food and other necessities. She and Legolas would carry their clothing and such, Gimli would ride the hill pony, despite his vehement protestations to the contrary. They needed speed if they were to escape notice on the bare plain.

Everything was packed, and they were just about to leave, when Lasselanta cried, "Wait!" and rushed back to the apothecary. Legolas and Gimli were puzzled when she returned with a stone jar the size of an apple and stowed it in her pack. She looked up and slung her pack on her shoulder, "We can go now."

"Care to explain what exactly it was you forgot?" Legolas asked.

"Oh! That!" Lasselanta answered with a laugh. "That is the stuff that allows me to blend into the landscape." She smiled at the looks on their faces, "It colors my hair dun brown. Bright copper is not the best color to have fluttering in the wind when you don't want to be seen."

Gimli chuckled and Legolas smiled, loading their packs onto their own backs. Lasselanta threw on her cloak, and turned once more to look at her home. She wrapped her arms around herself and felt her eyes misting up.

"I truly will miss this place," she said thickly.

"Ah, there, there now," Gimli said, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "It's not forever."

"It may as well be," Lasselanta said dejectedly, then apologized, "I'm sorry," she shook off the sadness, "Come, let us go," and she strode for the stair, Celebrindal by her side.

Legolas followed, leading Gimli's pony, Fëanorian lamp in hand. Laureaquen followed his elf-friend and Gimli brought up the rear.

"Such a shame," he said to himself, shaking his head, as he took one final look back and they headed into the crisp autumn air.


	7. Imladris Calling

Once outside in the brilliant morning sunshine, which blinded Legolas a bit after the relatively dim light of the single Fëanorian lamp, they got Gimli up on the hill pony and the remaining company set off south, toward the Old Forest Road, at a ground-eating lope, Lasselanta and Celebrindal in the lead.

They wound around the back, into the hills, to avoid being seen. The band continued on in silence, for fear of trouble brewing in the north, and the fact that orcs, or worse, Uruk Hai might be nearby. The crisp autumn day wore on, and at dusk they stopped to make camp, their backs up against a large outcropping of lichened rock in and among the stony hills.

"I think we can risk a fire tonight," Lasselanta said softly. Legolas nodded in agreement, for the evening had clouded smoothly over, making the night grey, instead of black.

"A small one only," he replied. Lasselanta threw him a reproving look that said, _As if I don't know how to make a fire!_ He nodded his apologetic concession and let her work as she saw fit.

"I don't suppose you're making a fire tonight?" Gimli asked hopefully.

"As a matter of fact, I am, Master Dwarf," Lasselanta answered with a grin. "Care to find some fuel for me?"

Gimli 'humphed,' "So long as it's wood!" Lasselanta chuckled and Legolas grinned as the dwarf gamely set out on his search.

"So," began Lasselanta when Gimli had gone, "Do you know where we are?"

Legolas sensed that she was not wanting to know, but testing him. "Well, the Ettenmoors and the Mitheithel are to our north, and we're flat up against the Misties, so that makes Trollshaw to our south; about half way to the Old Forest Road and not far from Rivendell."

Lasselanta nodded, "Good, I suspected we weren't far from Rivendell."

Legolas let silence reign for a moment before asking gently, "Then why did you not go there?"

She sighed, then grimly replied, "I'd never been to any other Elven community, so why should the elves of Rivendell be any different from those of Mirkwood?" She turned away to unload Laureaquen's burden.

For the umpteenth time, Legolas mentally kicked himself and all of his brethren before heading out to find Gimli and help.

* * *

Lasselanta leaned her head against Laureaquen's now sympathetic neck. "Why?" she muttered to herself. "Why does he have to pry so, and yet be so kind?" With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the task at hand. Laureaquen was very strong, but not a packhorse, and the straps had rubbed at his coat. She made a mental note to pad the straps better in the morning. For now, she unceremoniously dumped the gear on the ground, remembering just in time to save the pack with the cookware and the one with Feanor's lamps as well. Then, she tended to the hill pony, removing his saddle and the light pack he was carrying as well.

As she dug for the currying brush, Legolas and Gimli returned, arms full of brushwood, and yes, even dried dung. After he had set down his load, Lasselanta handed Legolas the currycomb, then proceeded to build a tiny fire.

"That's no fire!" Gimli cried, outraged. "How on Middle Earth am I supposed to get warm with that undersized thing!"

"Gimli," Legolas admonished playfully. "You of all people know that sometimes the smallest things can be the most powerful!" Gimli merely sputtered his annoyance.

"Legolas is right, Gimli," Lasselanta replied gently. "A small fire can exude more of its heat outward, instead of upward, like a large fire. Plus, it will keep the light and smoke down to a minimum and help keep us from being noticed." Gimli 'humphed,' but held his tongue, and went to dig out the heavy blankets they were going to need on this frigid night.

When she was finished building the fire, Lasselanta opened the food pack, then turned and gestured to Legolas, "All yours, Master Elf!" she smiled.

Gimli protested heartily, "I will not eat his cooking for one more night!"

"Oh, come now, Gimli!" Lasselanta replied teasingly. "I want to give Legolas a chance and come to my own conclusions!" Legolas kept his silence as he worked, pulling out a stout cooking skin and filling it with barley. Gimli groaned, but Legolas ignored him, turning to block the fire from view. Lasselanta settled down against a rock and wrapped herself in a blanket, letting him work. Gimli fiddled with his weapons, the horses peacefully munched on the sparse grass, stomping every now and again. Grateful for a chance to rest after a long day, Lasselanta looked up into the peacefully swirling grey clouds in the dark sky.

* * *

Lasselanta awoke to the savory scent of mutton and dill. She opened her eyes to see Legolas crouched beside her, a steaming bowl of porridge in his hand. She smiled ruefully and took it with a murmured thanks.

"Don't worry," he comforted, "You weren't asleep long."

"I shouldn't've been asleep at all," Lasselanta retorted, somewhat annoyed with herself.

"You're too hard on yourself, missy!" Gimli countered, enjoying his dinner and toasting his feet by the tiny fire.

"He's right, you know," Legolas agreed. "You can't expect to wear yourself out entirely one night and be perfectly fine the next." Lasselanta merely tightened her lips and kept quiet. She turned her attention to her dinner. The porridge consisted of barley, mutton, dill, and salt, and was actually very good.

"Legolas is a good cook, Gimli," Lasselanta disagreed. Gimli merely glared at her and ungraciously accepted a bowl of his own from Legolas. Lasselanta looked at Legolas, who met her eyes with a small smile, and allowed herself one of her own.

Gimli, who had finished his porridge hastily, said gruffly, "I'll take first watch."

"You'll take the last watch," Legolas told Lasselanta. When he saw that she was about to protest, he overruled her, "You need your rest," he said firmly. "I can't show my face at Rivendell with an overworked elf on my hands."

"Half elf," Lasselanta muttered under her breath, but she accepted his argument, and having finished her dinner, quietly thanked him again and found a comfy little hollow to curl up in.

She woke at dawn, refreshed, only to remember that she was supposed to take the last watch. She cast her glance about, searching for that traitor, Legolas. She found him standing silent sentry at the top of the hill, still as a tree, hair ruffled by the wind. Shaking off the night's dew and loosening her hair, she walked up behind him and stood next to him, lips pressed into a thin, annoyed line.

Legolas turned to look at her sun-drenched profile, "Good morning," he offered pleasantly.

"What happened to the third watch?" she retorted, still annoyed.

"Gimli and I survived with just two before, it was easy enough to do it again," he replied easily. "Besides, do you think I like to give up the chance to see such a glorious sunrise?" and with one sweeping gesture and a smile, he outlined the whole brilliant horizon that was touching the surrounding hills with rosy pink and deep gold.

Lasselanta looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, but couldn't stay annoyed for long, not in the face of such mischievous joy. So, instead, she yawned, stretched thoroughly, and nearly flew down the hill at a dead run, glorying in the wind in her hair and her feet on the earth.

* * *

Legolas watched her in amusement as she loped across the hilly plain, illuminated by the rising sun. She was still an enigma to him, quick to anger, quick to smile, and always running. With a smile, he shook his head to himself. He was a patient elf, he'd figure it out, sooner or later.

He ambled easily back to the camp and found Gimli groggily rousing the fire from its bed.

"Now where's the lassie run off to?" he grouchily demanded.

"She's gone for a run," Legolas replied amiably.

"Well _I'm_ making breakfast!" and so the dwarf set to making a hearty meal of fried sausage and potatoes, muttering all the while, "About time we had some real food on this trip!"

Not at all offended, Legolas set about tidying up the camp, packing up their blankets, covering their tracks, and currying the horses. By the time Gimli had breakfast ready, Lasselanta still had not returned, and Legolas began to worry a bit. So, after eating lightly (and managing to offend Gimli, who merely "humphed" as he was wont to do), Legolas set out to find her.

From the hill where he had kept watch, Legolas set out at a slow lope, following her fair tracks in the grass. He had gone quite a ways when his sensitive nose detected water. Knowing that they would need some before they were to continue onward, he followed the scent to a small copse of low trees and shrubs. A small spring welled up from a cluster of rocks on a squat hill and flowed down into the copse. Curious, Legolas made his way carefully through the brush, and soon saw a small, clear pool that had collected in a low spot between hills. He smiled at the lovely spot, but then his eyes caught on a disturbance at the middle of the pond, and widened as a lithe white figure rose out of the water. It took him a moment to get over the shock before he figured out that it was Lasselanta who stood so gloriously before him, her hair dark and dripping, but holding no glint in the sun. Her back was to him, and still half in the water, she reached behind and wrung her hair out, brown-stained water flowing over her hands. She pulled her hair over her shoulder, saw the dripping brown water, and sighed before diving under again.

Legolas smiled to himself at the sight of her sleek form in the water, then remembered himself and moved away and back toward the source of the spring to fill his water skin. When he was finished, he cupped his hands and tasted the sweet cold stuff himself, when he heard a humming. It was Lasselanta, and she was humming the Namarië. He smiled, and turned to leave, when she broke out into song, "_Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!_" her clear, near soprano voice ringing softly about the hills. An idea formed in Legolas' head, so he answered in harmony on the next lines, "_Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier mi oromardi lissë-miruvóreva_..." and as she broke off, startled, so did he. Grinning, he moved again through the copse, make a bit of noise so she would know he was coming. When he reached the shoreline, he saw, with a twinge of regret, that she'd left the water and was already half-dressed.

"I thought that was you, Lasselanta," he said amiably.

"You startled me," she ruefully replied, wringing her dark hair out.

"Did you really need a bath so badly?" Legolas grinned, skirting the water's edge as he walked toward her.

Lasselanta merely made a face at him, "No, but I did need to dye my hair," and she pointed to her head. "I can't go gallivanting around the countryside with garish red hair!"

Legolas looked sadly at her now dun-brown and drying hair. "Pity," he sighed, "I liked it the other way."

Lasselanta looked slightly startled, but then gave him a warm smile, "It's not permanent, you know. It'll be gone the next time I wash my hair."

Legolas winked roguishly, "Good."

* * *

Lasselanta raised an eyebrow at Legolas' surprising behavior. Perhaps it was because they'd been above ground for several days now, but he seemed to be acting more and more strangely. She mentally shrugged and tucked that thought away before she began braiding her hair. She was combing it with her fingers, when she felt Legolas behind her, and then felt his hands on hers.

"Let me," he said quietly, and Lasselanta, puzzled, acquiesced. "Sit," he requested, and she gracefully folded her legs as she dropped to the ground. He knelt behind her and began to comb her hair with his own fingers, being very gentle with the snarls. After a few moments of feeling quite peculiar, Lasselanta began to relax and let him work, eyes closed to the flooding warmth and light of the sun. Soon, the lovely feeling of his fingers in her hair gave way to a tingling scalp as he gently pulled her hair into an intricate braid.

* * *

Legolas was pleased when Lasselanta began to relax. She really did have lovely hair, though he was sad to see the light gone from it. As he plaited her hair into two braids, each starting at her temples, he breathed in the scent of her hair and the spring and basked in the warmth of the sun. As a middle child, he'd had a lot of experience braiding his brother's and sister's hair, so when he was finished, the effect was quite lovely: two soft but secure braids ran from her temples to the base of her neck, where he'd carefully tucked the long curls into a low knot.

"There," he said when he was finished and leaned back on his haunches to study the effect. "You're done."

Lasselanta gingerly reached back and felt her hair, and made a sound of pleasant surprise. She then tried shaking her head to see how loose it was, and was pleased that it stayed in place. She turned, leaning on one hand, and grinned at him. "My thanks, Legolas! I never was very good at doing anything other than a single braid."

With the sun on her face and sparkling in her eyes, Legolas realized just what an attractive elfmaid Lasselanta really was. In a fit of impulse, he boldly reached out and with a few fingers under her chin, gently turned her head from one side to the other before commenting, "Not a bad job, but it doesn't do you justice," and with that, he smiled down into those lovely grey eyes.

* * *

Lasselanta looked up at him, startled by the warmth in his eyes and the truth in his voice. "Thank you," she replied softly with a shy smile. He was looking at her in a way that made her stomach flutter, something she wasn't certain she was quite ready for. So, she gathered her feet under herself and stood, then stooped and lent a hand to Legolas, who certainly didn't need it, but politely took it anyway. But when he didn't let go of her hand after he stood, she looked at him with wary eyes, worried about his intentions.

"We should get back," she said hastily, pulling her hand from his and gathering up her things. "Gimli will be wondering after us."

Legolas merely let her go, and then, with a small sigh, followed her through the copse and back to camp.


End file.
